Switching Lanes
by Elemental Dragon Slayer
Summary: "Only pussies run nitrometh. You're in the big leagues now, Eragon." I thought it was the end for me, for street-racing, when I had to move in with my other Aunt & Uncle. Instead, 5 litre supercars, professional racing groups and wrecking shift my life up a gear. Add in finding your parents, as well as a girl with striking emerald eyes, and it's like I've switched lanes completely.
1. The Move

Chapter 1 - The Move of My Life

Eragon POV

Thud. Thud.

There it was again. What the hell was that noise? Oh, yeah. That's probably Uncle Garrow moving some boxes. Stupid boxes and stupid idea of moving house to go live with some long-lost Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena I've never heard of before. Why couldn't I just stay here in Dagenham? With my best mates Baldor, Albriech and Nolfra- Nolfravell. Oh god, I closed my eyes momentarily and it all came rushing back…

_Everyone was cheering for Nolfravell in his black, first gen. Subaru Impreza. Hey, it may have been first gen., but with a bit of tuning and a turbocharger, that thing moved like a granny on steroids. Nolfravell was owning those punks, drifting around Broad Street into Ford Road like a pro and then hitting that acceleration. Wow, he was good. Not even that douche Othmund from Cerberus, in the electric blue Mistsubishi Evo IV, could catch him. He had this race in the bag… or so I thought._

_Suddenly Othmund has a burst of speed from switching on his nitrometh tank catching everyone by surprise, even Mark whose head honcho of the Daggers, the group I'm in. Othmund rapidly gains on Nolfravell who then switches on his nitrometh too. But he switches too late and Othmund whizzes past - or should have, instead he just skims his front right tyre with Nolf's back left. Nolf goes flying, losing control, desperately trying to turn the steering wheel and right his car but instead he rolls. He rolls five times agonisingly slowly to us. He wrecked. Othmund wrecked him. And the sly bastard crosses the end of Ford Road looking like the smug asshole he is. Meanwhile, me and Baldor have rushed out first along with everyone else in the Daggers to help Nolf out of what used to look like a car, now a bunch of scrap metal._

_It's bad: there's blood everywhere. Nolf's out cold and there's a long gash running from his temple to the side of his neck. It looks deep. I hear screams from his girlfriend, Fiona, of,_

_"Call 999! Somebody! Oh, Jesus…"_

_We didn't know it was too late by then, Nolf was still breathing but his time was up. The ambulance came, along with the fuzz. Mark told us to leg it; we didn't go at first but he shouted at us again to leave and then we stumbled away, into the alleyway where our bikes where._

_The next day, I got a call from Mark. He told me to come to the hospital so I caught the bus and arrived there. I was greeted by the others, their faces like death itself and at that moment, I knew this was gonna be bad._

_"Guys," he starts. "Nolf… Nolf is… Ah, shit. Nolf's in a level four coma. Doctors say he's likely not gonna make it but that's crap and we know it. Stay strong, Nolf will pull through."_

_Lies, all of it. I stayed there for the next hour, giving some excuse to Garrow about being out in town with friends. Garrow knew about the whole street racing thing already and he's just about cool with it. But this, ha. This will make him blow a gasket. We all went in and said a few words to Nolf, things like 'Come back soon mate', 'You'll be up in no time boy', 'Fiona's waiting for ya, I know what you two are like' and so on, all with tears in their eyes and sorrow in their voices._

_After an hour, Mark and Fiona came out having what looks like been crying their eyes out. The word 'No' was constantly repeating over and over in my head. 'No, no, no, no…'. I stood up with the others from my seat in the waiting room. There was a long wait, about a minute or so of dead silence disturbed by sniffling and sobbing._

_"Mark," I said, "What…? Just, say something for fuck's sake!" He didn't respond, his eyes unfocused and dilated. I ran up and grabbed his shirt, fisting it and slamming him against the wall._

_"Talk, what's happened?!"_

_Slowly, Mark opened his mouth and whispered, every so softly 'He's gone. Dead. Just a minute ago.' I stared at him as hot tears pressed at my eyes and ran silently down my face. The pain was too much. It was all too much. As Mark hugged me tightly, I stood there and numbly returned his embrace. Fiona, was on the floor, kneeling and sobbing with some of the other girls giving whatever comfort they could; Albriech, Baldor, Zacharia, Orgnar and the rest: they were all silently crying._

_'Damn it. God damn it…' was my last thought._

My eyes open and I fling myself up in a rush, causing me to feel temporarily dizzy as the blood quickly drains from my head. Eugh, not fun. That memory happened a month ago and it changed everything. Garrow found out about the whole incident about a week after it happened and everything turned nasty. He instantly banned me from racing, allowing me to keep the car but if he ever caught me racing again, saying shit would hit the fan would be an understatement. A big understatement. Then it seemed Garrow wanted to take things a step further: he decides I should switch schools and go live with Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom, his sister and brother-in-law to stay safe. What utter garbage.

"Eragon? Eragon?! Are you up yet you lazy trout?" shouts Garrow from downstairs.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up old man." I reply back, slowly getting out of bed and trodding into the bathroom. My en-suite bathroom, another thing I'll miss having. After taking a quick shower, I change into some clothes I wore last night and head down for breakfast.

"Big day today, eh?" says Garrow.

"Yeah, Arsenal are playing Spurs, should be huge."

"Eragon. That's not what I meant. I'm talking about-"

"I know what you're bloody talking about. And I don't want to talk about it. End of."

"Son-"

"Don't call me that."

"Eragon… I know this is hard but it's for the best."

"Spare me the crap Uncle, everyone always says that. You're just too paranoid about me having an accident and potentially dying too like Nolf! It was a one off freak thing, it's not like we're dropping dead by the day!"

"So what if I am!" Garrow shouts back. "So _what_if I am?! It's only natural that I'm worried! You're lucky I let you into this racing business in the first place and didn't say no instantly, although now I'm regretting that decision. Just hurry up and finish your breakfast and bring your boxes down."

We don't normally fight, actually hell, we never do come to think of it. I get along pretty well with my Uncle, I used to as well with Aunt Marian before she died of breast cancer. God my life sucks right now. No point in moping I guess.

I look through my stuff in the boxes one last time before bringing them down and can't resist going through some photos: my first Arsenal match with Roran (my cousin and Garrow's son) my first fight with some kid at school - I remember he was a pussy for sure, fishing with Garrow, they're all there. My firsts and the most prized one: a photo of me winning my first race in a black and white Nissan Skyline R33. I fondly stroke my fingers over the picture. No more street racing, no more tuned cars, no more rocket fuels; no more fun basically I think to myself.

'Uncle, I got my stuff down!' I say while dropping the last box in the front garden just outside the removal van.

"Good." He tenses suddenly, then relaxes. "Eragon, I'm sorry about earlier… I didn't mean to shout and I'm just worried about you s- your safety." He cut himself off.

"It's fine Uncle, I'm sorry for being such an ass about it, I'll deal with it. No worries, alright?"

My eyes start to film over. I can't help it: I've lived with Garrow since as long as I can remember. No mother, no father. Can't remember them and never seen 'em. I'm over it though. Long, long over it. Garrow starts to cry too and gives me a big ol' bear hug which I return just as intensely.

"Don't ever hesitate to visit, I'm sure Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena will be more than willing to let you come down by tube."

"I was hoping I could drive down…"

"I'm sure Brom will let you drive his car."

"I hope so. No car would be hell on earth for me."

"Alright, in you go. C'mon, in the van, before I get all teary-eyed on you again."

I hop in the van beside the driver and his co-worker. They seem like pretty cool dudes: the driver's called Ingvar and his partner Reldan. Apparently they'd been in the removal business since they were sixteen and worked together for a decade now. As we set off, I wave a quick goodbye to Garrow and stare straight ahead, not looking back. I decide to pass the time by asking the guys about cars, hoping it would provide some entertainment for the 3 hour journey to Kensington. Fortunately, these guys were serious petrol heads.

"No, no. The Nissan GT-R SpecV would pummel a Gallardo in a race anyday!" argues Ingvar.

"You've lost it mate! Gallardo would do it in on the straights. SpecV would be eating it's dust practically." claims Reldan.

"I reckon you're both right. SpecV would take the corners much better but it would lose out on straights. It's only got a 4 litre compared to the Gallardo's 5 litre V10."

"Aha, see I'm right!" they both simultaneously shout. "No, the kid said I was right!" they both suddenly argue. And it goes on like this for a while, much to my amusement.

Kensington. That's full of fops and some rich people. Huh, this will be interesting. I hope the kids won't be stuck up pricks as the stereotype goes. Garrow never talked much about Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena; if I ever asked, I swear he would always stiffen ever so slightly then wave my question off with some vague, half-hearted answer. I had always thought they must be rich, why else would they live in Kensington? Suddenly, the idea of having more money than I was used to comes to mind.

'Huh, maybe they might buy me a car if I'm good…' I muse to myself. Meanwhile, Ingvar and Reldan are still bickering like no tomorrow.

"But the Bugatti Veyron is just… just… a cheat!"

"Whaddaya mean a cheat? It's a work of art you dolt. W16, leather seats, 1000bhp-"

"Actually it's 987." I interrupt.

"Whatever kiddo." Ingvar gives me a flat, unfriendly stare. "Anyway as I was saying, before I was _rudely_interrupted by someone," he says while giving me a pointed look, "the Veyron is a beauty. It's the God of all cars. The McLaren F1 can go die in a hole for all I care."

"Take that back!" shouts Reldan. "The F1 is true engineering, it's got a middle seat for Christ's sake. That's ruddy brilliant."

"Only cause you're a gaming nerd. Nerd."

"Douche."

"Twerp."

"Shut up, guys. Seriously, put a sock in it for now." I quickly plug my headphones in my ear and listen to my iPod before any of them come back with some witty response. I look at my watch. It's already been 2 hours; guess the bickering helped time pass at least. Suddenly a car flies past, doing at least 90mph, with two police cars hot on its tail. Another memory comes flooding back…

_"Faster Gunnar! The fuzz are gaining you idiot!" cried Mandel._

_"Just be quiet Manny. I've got my foot down hard, what else can I do? And, no, I'm not wasting meth on escaping some cops." Gunnar calmly replied. Yeah, Gunnar was an ice block: always kept his cool in pretty much every situation. I swear, if someone put a gun to his head he wouldn't piss himself, he'd spit out frozen bullets. That's how cool he is. Nothing makes him sweat. I was in the back seat, with Mandel (or Manny as we like to tease him) sitting shotgun and Gunnar driving. We'd just come back from a race night, which was before Nolfravell died, and Gunnar had just gone over the speed limit, doing 55 in a 50mph zone. Damn fuzz were onto us in an instant. Gunnar pulled the handbrake and slid around the corner, while one police car went straight on and the other braked hard and almost hit a streetlamp while turning._

_"Woo! You lost 'em man." I crowed in delight._

_"Not yet, one left." Manny replied and pointed behind us. Sure enough, that car which braked hard was still following us._

_"Argh. Leave off you slags!" Gunnar muttered in frustration. He drifted around a gentle corner, leading from Heathway onto Arnold Road._

_"Should lose 'em here. I'll dive in a bush and cut the engine and the lights." The lone police car went straight ahead, not noticing us at all._

_"What a retard. Nice going bro." complimented Mandel. Gunnar fist bumped Mandel and pretended to check his finger nails, replying,_

_"Never any doubt. Cops ain't got shit on me." We drove on and they dropped me off back at Garrow's that night._

"Hey kid. Oi, Eragon! We're here son." says Ingvar, while shaking my shoulders to wake me up. Again, my eyes fly open as I shake myself off, stretch out and unplug my headphones. I climb out the lorry and look over my new home. And damn, it is impressive. It's a two storey house, with a huge front garden lined with all sorts of flowers and bushes. The building itself is detached and much bigger than Garrow's house, at least three or four times its size. And standing in the, what looks like, mahogany front door are two people who have to be Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom. They are both smiling and quietly talking to each other but they both have different expressions on their faces: the man, Brom, looks a bit miffed and the woman, Selena, looks like she was bursting from the seams of her clothes with joy. Their eyes though, they tell a completely different story. They seem… longing, as if they'd just looked upon their firstborn child for the first time ever. Dismissing those thoughts, I walk up to them and introduce myself.

"Hello, I'm Eragon. It's nice to finally meet you Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena." See, I do have some manners; not all us Londoners are rude and obnoxious. "And your house, it's bloo- I mean it's amazing." Ah damn it. Had to ruin it, way to go Ery. Great first impression right there.

"Hello there Eragon, it's good to meet you too. After all the things Garrow's been telling us, we couldn't wait to see you." says Brom plainly, thankfully ignoring my lapse in politeness. He seems a bit reserved to be honest but I shouldn't pass judgement so soon I guess. Who knows, maybe he's a petrol head too?

"Eragon, it's so good to see you finally! Ignore your Uncles' teasing and come inside, quickly. You must be hungry yes? No, no. Don't be stubborn now. Sit down and eat s- sweetheart. The movers will bring all your things in." says Selena, who still seems to be bubbling over with joy. At least someone was happy, I like her already. However, I can't help but notice how she stuttered over saying 'sweetheart'. It sounded as if she was going to say son. Weird. I go inside and if I was blown over by the outside of the house, the inside might as well have been a tsunami.

Dark, blue marble tiles line the floor of the hallway, with a grand oak staircase spiralling upstairs to my left. The living room is incredibly spacious, with a 40 inch LED TV hooked up to the wall and three senator sofas lining the outside of the room with a large glass coffee table filling the middle. I catch a quick glimpse of a swimming pool outside in the back garden and a training room packed with barbells, dumbbells, rowing and cycling machines, a treadmill along with an obstacle course it seems. I wonder who uses them now that Brom and Selena both look like they're in their late 30's or early 40's. Well, at least I can continue my training regime Roran had set me up with back in Dagenham; I'd put on a fair amount of muscle and had finally converted my four pack into a six pack. I'm still not as muscled as Roran but I don't want to get too carried away anyway. We arrive in the kitchen and my senses are overloaded: a roast turkey sandwich and apple pie slice sit on the breakfast bar, practically beckoning to me with their non-existent arms.

"So, Eragon. What do you think of Kensington then? Must be pretty different compared to Dagenham." asks Brom, breaking the silence that had built up while I ate.

"It's pretty cool. It's certainly cleaner than Dagenham, that's for sure."

"I imagine it would be. Dagenham is on the East side of London after all."

"Brom, don't be so rude dear. Dagenham must have a lot of fond memories for Eragon here." chides Selena. As soon as she says that, yet more flashbacks flood into my head. I wave them off quickly and get up after I finish eating.

"I was wondering if I could take look inside the garage. Would that be alright with you guys?" I ask hopefully. I know there have to be some epic cars stowed away, there just have to be.

"Of course, go right ahead. Garrow told us you were a car man just like my husband." says Selena, shaking her head with mirth.

"Just don't break anything, Ok?" calls Brom as I bolt towards my destination. I open the side door and find myself in pure bliss. There are five cars, all lined up alongside each other. A crimson red Lamborghini Aventador, a yellow Ferrari 458 Italia, a jet black Chevrolet Corvette C6, a red and white striped Ford GT and a racing green Aston Martin V12 Vanquish.

"God almighty…" I breath.

"Quite a sight aren't they?" says Brom, strolling up alongside me.

"Yeah, they are. Do you still drive them at all?"

"Sometimes I take them for a spin. But I'm not the motor head I once was."

"Was?" I ask, hoping for an elaboration.

"That's a story for another time Eragon. Come back inside now, your Aunt and I need to talk to you about a few things." Back to reality I guess.

* * *

**So this is my first story ever published on FF. I've got another one in the works which is set in the actual Inheritance Cycle universe i.e. Alagaesia called 'To The Rest'. For now though, I'm going to continue with this for a few chapters and hopefully publish the other story next week sometime maybe. Please review and tell me what you think, that would honestly brighten up my dull days currently filled with revision for January exams. Thanks in advance guys and girls.**

**P.S. Feel free to ask/PM me any questions about London, the areas, etc. I don't mind answering those kinds of questions. **


	2. Deal With It

**OK, back with the next chapter. Saphira and Arya are introduced in this one, Arya more briefly but they'll be back in the next one and featured a lot more, don't panic. R&R folks, thanks in advance again. Appreciate the reviews, I really do. Also, just want to thank Unrivaled Mind and Tamerlain85 in helping me get this story together and out. Cheers guys. **

**P. S. Any clothes descriptions are courtesy of my fashionista sister, who for seem reason thought it was imperative that I make the characters have a good fashion sense. Don't ask me why, just don't. Enjoy.**

Chapter 2 - Deal With It

Eragon POV

We head back inside and sit down in the living room.

"So, Eragon." Why does he keep saying that?

"Now that you've had a look around and eaten, we thought we'd talk to you about your new school which you'll be going to on Monday that is the day after tomorrow."

Oh yeah, I had totally forgotten about school. Clever me.

"Now, the school you'll be going to is called Holland Park School. It's the one I went to when I was your age and it's a good one for sure. I'm certain you'll make new friends and have a good time. What AS-Levels are you, or were you doing in Dagenham?"

"Maths, Further Maths, Physics, Chemistry and Economics." I reply instantly.

"Five? Impressive, that's one more than I did. And Further Maths? I see you like your number crunching and calculus then. Good. Good."

"What's the uniform like? I mean as in colour scheme and all that?" I ask hesistantly, fearing it might be something idiotic like pink and fuchsia.

"Oh, in 6th form college you can wear casual clothing. Nothing too casual mind you so don't get too relaxed Eragon. And before you ask, yes there are girls. It's a mixed school."

Thank the Lord! I was worried I'd been roped into an all-boys school. The guys back in Dagenham wouldn't let me live that down, I'd be called gay the rest of my life. Roran had already been teasing me saying I needed to get a girlfriend but the fact of the matter is, no matter how mushy it sounds, I wanted to find a girl I actually liked. I'm not saying all the girls at my old school were sluts or anything, none of them just seemed to click with me.

"Casual clothing? Really? I thought I'd be wearing a suit or something more…" I trail off, not wanting to unintentionally be insulting.

"Posh? Upper-class? No, Eragon. Not everything in Kensington is aristocratic. Controversial, I know." I think I just irritated him slightly.

"Now, travel plans: you can either cycle or walk to school, your choice. Cycling takes approximately 10 minutes and walking twice as long. What's it going to be?"

"I think I'll cycle, I don't really want to have to wake up early just to walk."

"Typical, lazy kid." he mutters softly. Deal with it, I think to myself.

"Ok then, that's all done. I'll ring the school now and finish setting you up. You're lucky only half the Winter Term has passed, any later and this would be a mess to sort out. Feel free to look around more or if you have any questions, ask your Aunt."

With that, he walks off somewhere down the hallway into his study.

"Aunt Selena, is he always like this? I mean, straight to the point, and a bit conservative?" I ask.

"No dear, not always. I think he's just getting used to having someone else around who he has to take care of. We've never had to look after a child before; it's a fairly new experience for us."

As she says this, that same look of longing returns to her eyes. Was I missing something? Her words trigger a distant memory…

_"Listen, Selena, it'll be fine. I need to send him away from here or he's going to end up hurting himself one day. No- just- Selena! Calm down. He doesn't remember anything; he thinks he's never met you two before. It'll be fine, like I said. I'm really worried for him, his results are starting to slip and I don't want him to end up failing his AS levels. The school he'll go to is great, you know that. And, more importantly, there's none of this street racing business in Kensington. I know. I know. This will be hard for him but it's for the best. The sooner he quits racing, the better. I don't know why I permitted it in the first place…'_"

That conversation, where Garrow was on the phone, happened about 3 months ago. It'd completely slipped my mind and now I know what the hell he was talking about. He'd planned this! He'd bloody planned this for ages! And he never told me. Not one word.

"I think I'll start unpacking my things, if that's Ok?" I ask, trying to get away quickly and contain my rising anger.

"Of course. I need to talk to your Uncle come to think of it. If you need any help unpacking, don't hesitate to call us. And your bedroom is the second door to your right when you get to the top of the stairs."

Slowly but surely, I started to pick up my boxes and carry them upstairs. My rage all but dissipated when I saw my spacious bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. I practically jumped for joy when I found out. My bed had already been set up with a mattress, some pillows and a blanket and there was a large wooden desk in the corner of the room. A wardrobe, chest of drawers and bedside drawers also occupied the room.

"Eragon! Eragon! I almost forgot to give this to you, here." shouts Selena from the bottom of the stairs. I jump at her voice and then head downstairs.

"A laptop?! Aunt, you really shouldn't have… I mean…" I stutter, truly grateful for the gift.

"Nonsense, your Uncle and I thought we should get you a welcome gift and Garrow told us you had wanted a new laptop for a while now, so what better gift than to get you a new one?" I give Aunt Selena a quick hug and thank her over and over while running back up to my room.

I spend the rest of the afternoon putting my things out and testing out my new laptop: it's a silver HP Ultrabook with Windows 8 on it. Perfect, I couldn't have asked for anything more. After eating dinner, I decide to go out and see what nightlife Kensington had to offer.

"Guys, is it alright if I wander about for an hour or so? I feel like stretching my legs."

"I guess so, just be careful and wear a jacket. It's cold outside now." says Brom, sort of reluctantly.

"Yes, make sure you wear a jacket dear." says Selena. I pull on a thick grey hoodie and go out the front door.

"Right, where to?" I say to myself. I start wondering off down the street and I find out I now live on 'Victoria Road' apparently.

"Typical British name." I mutter.

"It is rather droll, isn't it?" someone says behind me. I spin round, ready to fight if need be.

"You don't need to go hostile on me, I don't bite. Promise." the stranger says cheekily.

"Who're you?" I ask, still tense and unnerved from her, it seems, sneaking up on me.

I quickly take in her appearance and look her over: she had medium length blonde hair that was tied up in a ponytail and ocean blue eyes; her nose was small and rounded and her mouth looked like it was always edging towards a smirk. She had a slim figure and, judging from my height of 5'11", was about 5'8" tall. Her clothes composed of some dark blue flats, black leggings, a blue hoody which matched the shade of her shoes, a white tunic which showed underneath the top of her hoody and some bracelets on her left wrist. She also wore glasses, designer by the look of its shape. All in all, it looks like she'd been out having a good time and was walking back home.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself didn't I? My name's Saphira, Saphira Jensine. I live on Canning Street, about a third of a mile from here. I'm 18 and I go to Holland Park School-"

"Woah, woah. Hold up. Are you sure you should be telling me all this, like your age, where you live and so on? Didn't anyone ever tell you not to speak to strangers?"

"You asked me who I was. I was only answering your question. Besides, you don't seem like a creeper to me. Or am I horrendously wrong?" She widens her stance while putting her hands on her hips and tilting her head, giving me a curious look.

"No, you're not. Why the hell would I be a creeper? You're the one who creeped up on me! Wait, you said you go to Holland Park School? I'll be starting there this coming Monday."

"Just starting? Oh, I see. You must have just moved in around here right? Did your parents change jobs? Did you get expelled from your old school? Or am I grasping straws here?"

"Yes. Yes. No. No. And… Yes. Any more questions?"

"How about you introduce yourself to me? I think somebody's forgetting their manners too, huh?"

"I'm Eragon Trent. I live in the… well the big house down the road, I think it's number 12." My cheeks redden slightly at her comment.

"You _think_ it's number 12? Wow, somebody certainly pays attention to their surroundings."

"I'm sorry, it's not like I wanted to move here in the first place." The stress of having moved was still getting to me.

"So it's not my fault I don't give a _crap_ about the house number I live at."

"Stressed? You sound like you are. What are you doing out here anyway?"

"Trying to 'de-stress' myself by walking around, just taking a look at Kensington. Admiring the views you might say and all that."

"Views? If you mean big houses and blocks of flats then by all means, go ahead and enjoy yourself."

"Look, your snarky remarks really aren't helping. Cut it out, alright?" God, this girl really knows how to push my buttons. I feel like hitting something now.

"My, testy aren't we? Okay then, I'll just carry on my way then. See you at school then, Ery."

"It's Eragon, not Ery!" I holler at her as she walks away.

"Whatever… Ery!" she cries back. I roll my eyes at her antics, she's not so bad I guess.

"Women these days, sheesh. Well, one good thing came out of this: at least I'll know someone at school on my first day. Now, where to?" I check my watch, it's already 11:20p.m.

"Better get a move on, Aunt Selena will probably start getting worried soon knowing her." I chuckle slightly at the thought. She acts like she's my mother half the time but I guess that's altogether not a bad thing.

I head towards the town centre, on Gloucester Road, and pass a McDonalds, Burger King and Subway consecutively; all of them were pretty busy surprisingly. I thought the 'rich folk' were supposedly big on healthy eating? What bollocks. Hang on, what's that sound? A V12? I'd know that low, roaring noise anywhere. I quickly glance back to see what car it was: a Murcielago? A Zonda F?

No. Way. I freeze while turning around halfway. The sight before me is one of 4 cars all power sliding onto the road, burning rubber and producing huge plumes of smoke. I manage to identify them all: a metallic gray Porsche 991 series, a lime green Lamborghini Diablo, a blood red Ferrari 550 Maranello and a bright yellow Chevrolet Corvette C5. What's curious though is the paintwork: all the cars had some custom painted logos or signs on them. One was a pair of crossed war hammers, one an elegant bow with 3 arrows nocked, one an armoured knight flourishing a broadsword and shield and the other a horned demon skull. They hurtle down the road while weaving about, desperately trying to get in front of one another. All of them are doing speeds of 120mph at least as they zip past me, if not more likely. Other bystanders gasp and shy away in fright as the cars race by.

Holy shit. That's all I can think: my mind is awestruck. I dazedly walk on down the road, with the image of those cars replaying over and over in my head. I must be in heaven. The only cars I've seen today have all been V8's or V12's! And there's street-racing? Here? In _Kensington_?! Mark told me that street-racing was non-existent in central London because of the insane amounts of traffic during the day. He didn't say anything about the congestion at night though; the streets are pretty calm right now, apart from that brief commotion a few seconds ago.

I was excited. Motor racing in general always set me buzzing and made me pulsate with a certain energy. How I wish I could be in one of those cars that just drove past, right now. I would actually cut off my left testicle for the chance, no joke.

I'm jerked out of my excited state by a pair of cars unexpectedly pulling up beside me. One car rolls down its driver's window to reveal a man with a stubble and cheap sunglasses at the wheel.

"Hey kid! Yeah, you, with the grey hoodie on." The driver calls. "You up for some fun?"

"Depends what fun is. Why are you interested in me?" I reply, wary of his question.

"You, me and these cars. Race. How about it?"

"Seriously? What if I wreck the car or something? And how do I know you're not some gay paedo trying to kidnap me?"

"Fuck you. I'm offering you a free car to race in kid, take it or leave it. I haven't had a decent challenge for a few days now and you look like you might be what I've just been looking for. Also, I don't give two shits on what happens to the car; I won it off some punk last week. So, final offer: yes or no?"

I know I shouldn't. I should say no and just walk away, leaving it at that. But I can't help it, the car calls to me. All those street-racing memories I have from Dagenham fill my mind. Screw it. I pause for a moment then consent to his offer.

"Alright, I'm in. How are we doing this?"

"Start at the lights ahead, straight down to till we come to Southwell Gardens. That's the one before the main road. Turn right onto it, then right onto Grenville Road. Head straight until we hit Victoria Grove and turn right-" That's a one way road, isn't it? I saw the sign when I walked past it. I voice my concerns to the man.

"That's one way though, ain't it? How-"

"I know it's one way but what, you too chicken shit or something? Huh?" He says this with a jeering look on his face. That does it, he's gonna eat my dust.

"No, I was just making sure. What next?" I reply with my jaw clenched and fists balled by my side.

"Good, didn't think you were a pussy. Just head down the road, turn left back onto Gloucester Road and first one to cross the lights wins. Got it?"

"Yeah." I give him a stiff nod and walk over to the other car as the other driver climbs out.

Before I get in, I give the car a short assessment and do a double-take. I hadn't noticed it was a Nissan Skyline, the car in which I won my first race. It was a newer model, an R34 GT-R which was a metallic fallow brown colour. I take it as an indicator that luck is hopefully on my side for this race. However, in my haste to accept the driver's offer, I'd forgotten to check out his car properly which, turns out, was a big mistake. He was driving a white Porsche 993 GT3 with red alloys and lower trims. Ballsacks. There's a substantial difference between the ability of our vehicles: the Skyline only has 280bhp and the GT3 has 300 odd, but it looks like he's tuned the engine from the sound of his exhausts. That means it's probably got 350, if not more. I shake my head bitterly and open the drivers' door.

As I do though, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle me as they stand up, as if someone's watching me. I look up sharply and scan the pavement across the road. I see a girl examining the cars and myself intently. Normally I flip people off who stare at me but this girl is simply stunning.

Her eyes are a deep emerald-green shade and seem so… alive and fiery. The rest of her face is fairly narrow, but not overly much, and angled near the bottom where her chin was. Her ears were slightly tipped and her red, lush lips pursed in unease. Her hair is of a raven black shade, smooth, naturally straight and tied up in a topknot, with a sliver hanging down the side of her face. Her skin looked smooth and probably felt better than silk, as well as being unblemished. I take in the rest of her figure: she's of an athletic build and isn't overly muscular, more slender. She's wearing a patterned white t-shirt, a pretty tight one at that, leaving little to my active imagination, underneath a black leather jacket. A pair of mid-rise denim skinny jeans, that snugly fit her hips and accentuate her curves, are tucked into a pair of black leather boots which end just below her knees.

My mouth has dried completely and my brain has literally malfunctioned. I want to know who she is. Badly.

"Hey kid, stop gawking and get in!" the stubbled man shouts at me, breaking the spell the girl seemed to have put on me. I tear myself away from her and get in, giving the Nissan a few revs and lining it up next to the other car in front of the traffic lights.

"This is hardly fair, I've got a Nissan and you've got a bloody Porsche! What's that about?" I yell at him over the sound of the cars' engines running.

"Should've thought of that earlier kid, no backing out now." He laughs and then faces the lights.

"Alright, when they go green, we go. Got it?"

"Got it." I confirm.

I stare straight ahead, keeping the lights only in my peripheral vision. That was trick Gunnar taught me back in Dagenham: keep your eye on the road, not the lights. You lose precious milliseconds when you have to move your vision from the green light to the road ahead and that can cost you the race before it's even started. I keep my foot on the brake, ready to switch to the accelerator pedal in an instant. My left hand grips the gear stick and my right holds the top of the steering wheel. I feel my grip loosen slightly as my hands start to sweat with nerves. God, even my forehead is perspiring: a bead of sweat rolls gradually down the side of my face and drops onto my lap. My heart's thundering, my blood pumping. This was it. Time to see if I still had the skills I did back in the Daggers.

The lights change to amber. I take my foot off the brake and hit the accelerator hard as the lights change to green. As the car lunges forward, I can't help but look in the left wing mirror and take another glimpse at the girl with the emerald-green eyes. Why was she glowering at the cars? And why did she have a logo on her jacket that matched one of the ones on the cars that raced by earlier?

**So, mysterious Arya and cheeky Saphira appear. What did you think? Again, reviews appreciated and more than welcome. Next chapter out in another couple of days hopefully, if not, then it's probably because I've fallen asleep on top of my textbooks while revising. I kid but in all seriousness, delays will be only on the order of a few days or so. **

**P.S. About the whole 'gay' thing in being in a single gender school, it's just a thing here in the UK. Basically, you don't go to a mixed school then you're teased and called gay but it wears off pretty quickly. And Selena is not going to pamper Eragon with gifts, this was just a one off present to be nice, etc. **


	3. Welcome To Kensington

**Okay then, here's the next chapter. Now I had to split it into two after writing it since it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. I've written about a third of the next chapter, which was sort of the 'excess' if you like of this chapter. Sorry no more characters are introduced, but in the next one there will be loads of them. I promise and you'll see why at the end. Thanks again for the reviews guys, helps me out greatly. **

** Dill Dragon: Thanks for the compliments. And yeah, 1****st**** person is harder to write in but I thought it would definitely suit this story, since it's based in London and I can get the London lingo going pretty well. I was worried about the 'I' thing too but good to know I've not messed that up. Glad I got the characters across well, I was intending for a cheeky Saphira. And at first there will be rivalry, but it will progress, you know how it goes: hate turns to… ;)**

**So, R&R guys and enjoy.**

**P.S. 'Unrivaled Mind' has two wickedly good stories going right now, 'The Flip of a Coin' and 'An Unwanted Bond'. I think most of you guys have heard of it/follow it, but for those who haven't, go do so. They're simply brilliant and helped me get going on mine. (Also, if you like ExA, that's even more reason to check them out)**

Chapter 3 - Welcome To Kensington

Arya POV

What an abysmal day.

Firstly, Saphira dragged me to somebody's birthday party, I think her name was Ashanta or something, where I was standing around like an awkward outcast since I barely knew anyone. Then there were also the insufferable twats who kept trying to hit on me.

Secondly, it turns out we lost _again_ in today's line up. The Paladins came first, which was surprising considering their recent track record, the Forsworn second, the Wardens third and the Smithies last, which wasn't surprising the least bit at all. When would they learn power isn't everything? Muscle cars most certainly aren't 'God's gift to us uneducated Brits', I quote. Imbeciles.

Third and foremost, I came home from the party to the sound of Mum and Dad screeching and yelling at each other over some pointless issue. It's a constant cycle of quarrelling and then forgiveness. I just fear the day it goes too far and one of them ends up doing something they regret for life.

As soon as I opened the door, I grabbed my keys and got on my bike to drive to town and walk around for a while. I really didn't need to hear their petty argument right now. They don't care anyway: as long as I achieve straight A*'s and 'work hard', I'm free to do what I desire. Firnen, my adopted brother, was probably out with his friends somewhere as always. He's 18 so I guess he's entitled to the same independence as I am.

I walk down Gloucester Road aimlessly while mulling over today's events, occasionally pulling out my phone and checking for text messages. It's pretty quiet tonight. That's always been an odd thing about Kensington: chaotic by day, serene by night. I find that pretty relaxing - the stress of today already feels like it's evaporating off my shoulders.

The peace is disrupted momentarily as four cars madly bolt down the road. I look at the time. It's 11:40p.m. That means the night race had already begun ten minutes ago. Squinting up the road, I see that the Wardens have pulled ahead slightly. Good, at least we can retain some of our dignity.

Valmir was in the lime green Diablo. I remember he'd spent a while fine-tuning his gear ratios. I recommended that he just buy a new box altogether and replace the driveshaft to save time but he objected straightaway. I should've known he'd be attached to that car by now; he's had it for almost a year or so now. His adjustments better have paid off and he sure as hell better win this race, otherwise Wylandriah's going to annihilate him.

While looking around at the shops and night lights, I spot two cars pull up next to somebody on the opposite side of the street. The boy, it seems, has a tense conversation with the driver. His expression changes several times, from wariness to confliction and then to… excitement? Wait, those cars - he's going to race the other driver. That's madness! He'll be in a GT-R up against a 993 GT3. How could he possibly win in a car considerably weaker in comparison? And does he even know what he's getting himself into here?

Before he climbs into the car, the boy abruptly looks up and starts scanning my side of the road until he sees me. He stares closely at me, before pulling himself away at the sound of the other driver's voice. Getting in the car swiftly, he starts it up and positions it before the traffic lights adjacent to the other driver's Porsche. The lights change to green and both cars thrust forward, with the Porsche getting the better start as expected.

I can't help but replay the image of him eyeing me over in my mind. By the looks of it, he appears to be about my age or a year younger at minimum. I couldn't see all of him completely, due to the fact he was standing behind the car's door, but his face betrayed a few things about him nevertheless. His eyes were a coffee brown colour and held a certain intensity about them. At the surface, there was a sparkle of excitement but I was convinced something darker lay beneath that. He had a sharp jaw line and his face was set in a firm manner at that moment. I could easily imagine it being more relaxed though. His hair was tawny brown and unkempt in a casual fashion as well. In general, it seemed he was laidback on the outside but definitely hiding some stronger feelings deeper inside. He knew how to mask them though, similiar to what I do.

I shake myself out of these thoughts. Why was I so preoccupied over his face? I suppose it was moderately attractive.

"Moderately? That's a lie Arya and you know it." I murmur to myself, shaking my head crossly for even thinking about the matter.

I run back to my bike and start it up, knowing I needed to intervene or at least make sure the boy was OK. He must not know how ruthless racing is in Kensington. When people wreck here, it's damn serious. Articles and stories appear in the paper and on television practically every day. No way was this going to end well for him, especially since he's probably a novice or amateur of some sort. Luckily my motorbike could keep pace with them: it's a black and electric orange Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R, 600cc with a top speed of roughly 190mph. Like hell it couldn't catch up. I put my helmet on and set off after the Nissan and the Porsche.

Eragon POV

Right off the bat, the Porsche went ahead. No surprise there.

"Shit." I curse.

My strategy is simple: what I lose on the straights, I need to make up for on the corners. We hurtle down Gloucester Road and as soon as we come to Southwell Gardens I discover I have a huge advantage. The guy in the Porsche just brakes sharply and turns round the corner: he doesn't know how to drift. The question is, do I still know how to?

Time to find out. I flip down to second and flick the steering wheel right, feeling the car lock up at the rear. I then counter-steer while praying the tail swings out. It does. I jab the acceleration pedal, before letting off a bit to control the drift around the corner. Looks like I still got it. Straightening the wheels, I put my foot down hard and shift up to third. Now Fourth. Fifth. These Skylines move quick, no doubt about that.

"Thank _you_ Manny! How do ya like me now you prick?!" I shout in the car.

I see the driver ahead take a quick glance at his rear-view mirror. I'd gained on him for sure and now he was nervous. It's a short distance before we have to turn again on to Grenville Road. Setting myself up for a drift again, I realise that if I time this right, I should overtake him on the corner and get a bit of a lead on him. The moment his brake lights come up, I spring into action.

I switch down to third, to maintain more of my momentum this time, and flick the steering wheel to the right again. That feeling of the rear wheels locking up never gets old. I remember it being petrifying when I first started learning the ropes from Manny; I always used to think the car was going to spin out of my control. Now? Now, it sets me alight with confidence.

Counter-steering and jabbing the acceleration once more, I drift round and barely miss skimming the Porsche by a few millimetres or so. But I pass him on the inside and now I'm ahead. It's essential I make the most of it since Grenville road is another long straight, meaning 'Porsche boy' is going to win back the lead indefinitely. I manage about hundred metres before he shoots past, flipping me off as he goes by.

"Son of a… What a bellend." I grumble.

As I grab the gear stick to shift up to fifth, my grip slips slightly and my finger passes over a bump. On closer inspection, I realise it's a button. That means the car must have a nitromethane or a nitrous cylinder in here somewhere because this has to be a micro-switch that comes with the fuel tank. I take a hasty look around the car while keeping my eyes on the road half the time. There.

Underneath the glove box, sticking out ever so slightly, is a blue cylinder with a hazardous sign and 'N2O' written on it. Admittedly, I've never used nitrous before so I had no idea of its capabilities and power enhancements. It was better than nothing. I had to keep it a secret though and save it for the final straight if I had any chance of beating the guy in the Porsche. I reckon it's highly likely he doesn't know about it or he would never have let me race him in this car.

"Surprise, motherfucker…" I mutter with a dark look on my face.

We were coming up to the second last turn, going on to the one-way Victoria Grove. I hope it was empty, or at any rate fairly quiet, or this was going to turn into one nasty game of dodgems. The Porsche up ahead braked hard again and rounded the corner, clipping the curb on its way out causing the car to rock slightly. I don't want to sound arrogant or anything but this guy is evidently an amateur. He's all over the place whenever he tries to turn harshly, even at only relatively high speeds.

No sooner had the thought come to my mind than the Porsche suddenly swerved left to avoid an oncoming car.

"Brilliant. That's just brilliant." I spit sarcastically. "Here we go…" Looks like it wasn't empty but the complete opposite: busy as ever.

I slow right down, switching all the way down to second and taking the corner smoothly before getting back on the acceleration. No way was I drifting around this corner and running the risk of being hit by another car or, worse still, a lorry. I take my chances in the right lane, thankful the road is lit up comprehensively with new street lights. A pair of headlights rapidly enters my vision. I swerve left as the car drives past, blasting its horn at me.

"Sorry, not much I can do pal. People to see, places to go and races to win." I smirk.

I'm full of adrenaline right now. Fear, which really should be present when driving down a one-way street the opposite way, is non-existent. What a rush!

I'm able to make it to the end of the road in one piece, having scarcely avoided three cars, a van and a ten tonne lorry in total. The guy driving the lorry looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights; his eyes were wide open with fright. I am also virtually covered in sweat from head to toe now though, which is affecting my ability to grasp the steering wheel firmly. I quickly switch hands and wipe my palms in turn individually on the front of my hoodie.

"Better." I say.

I set myself up to drift for the last time in the race, while carefully fingering the micro-switch on the gearstick in anticipation. I had to time this perfectly. Too early and I run the risk of burning out especially since I don't know how full the tank is. Too late and I won't pass the Porsche in time. Drifting round the corner, using the same in-grained technique I'd used twice before in the race, I hit the acceleration once more and keep my finger poised over the switch. I shift up to third gear.

"Wait for it…" Boom, fourth gear.

"Wait…" Fifth gear. The rev-counter is at 5000rpm, a thousand off the red line.

That's my signal, any more and activating the nitrous could run the risk of blowing the engine when it goes into red. I thump the switch and hold it down. Immediately, the car starts to vibrate violently as it surges forward with its newfound power.

The rev-counter shoots up to 5500rpm and, in a few seconds, is already just over 6000. The speedo lurches from 80mph to 90, then 100 and 110 in rapid succession. It continues to rise: 120, 130, 140. The Porsche is maxing out as well but I'm gaining. And fast. There's only about five meters between us. Now four. Three. Two. One. I overtake him and can't help but shoot him a smug look. God, I am such a douche sometimes.

I continue to hold down the switch and the throttle. The speedo is now approaching its limit of 155mph. I take a glimpse at the rear-view mirror. He's done. The Porsche is at least 10 meters behind me now and the lights are only 50 meters away.

While looking in the mirror, I spot an orange motorbike about 20 meters behind me which is absolutely tearing down the road. I only had a quick look in the mirror, but it seems like the figure riding it is a woman. Refocusing on the road ahead, I count down the distance to the lights in my head. That was significantly harder than I thought since the car feels like it's now shaking itself to pieces; I hope it holds out for the last 40 meters. The bike suddenly shoots by making me jump, just as the car hits a bump, so I end up smacking the top of my head on the roof.

"Bloody Mary! My head!" I roar. Unexpectedly, the bike turns off onto a road to the right, disappearing from view completely.

The pain is worth it though, I think as I block it out. There's only 30 meters to sweet success. Now only 20. 10. 5. I cross the lights as they turn green, making the victory feel all that much more satisfying. I let go of the switch and pad the brakes, slowing down gently while sticking my hand out the window and pumping my fist in the air, whooping and hollering in glee.

My joy is short lived though as my jaw goes slack in seeing five police cars burst out onto the road ahead of me, blaring their sirens and horns to force people out of the way. I slam down on the brakes and do a 180 turn, all the while wondering where on earth the fuzz came from. Had they been tracking us? Was that other driver an undercover cop? The answer becomes clear as soon as I turn around.

Ahead of me, I see the Porsche driver has skidded to a stop sideways. He smiles mockingly at me while slowly waving his phone in front of him. He'd called the cops while we were on the final straight. Now I'd get nicked and he'd drive off innocent. And all because he'd lost and this was his way of getting back at me. The little…

No way is that happening. I hit the throttle hard and chase after the Porsche as he attempts to escape as well. Realising that this was a futile endeavour, I decide to turn off at the next available road. l see a street sign labelled 'Kynance Mews' and prepare to drift round it since I wanted to slow down as little as possible. If I get nicked, it will not bode well for me. Aunt Selena will be disappointed in me, Uncle Brom will blow up in a fit of rage and Garrow would do the exact same. Like I said, no way is that happening.

Or not. As the back end flings out, I hear a dull thud and the car spins out of my control. I release the throttle and desperately wrench the steering wheel in an attempt to straighten the car out. It was a useless effort. The Nissan, while spinning at high speed, hits the edge of the pavement which is about 15 to 20cm above the road forcing it to flip over and lift off the ground.

At this point, my eyes are shut tightly and my hands are grasping the steering wheel firmly as I rotate through the air. The car jolts suddenly and I feel the vibrations rattle my body painfully. Eventually the Nissan comes to a halt and we end up perpendicular to the ground i.e. with the car lying on its side, with me feeling like I'd just been run over by an 18-wheeler.

My head is pounding and my hearing is distorted, any noise becoming amplified and unclear. When I open my eyes, everything is unfocused and hazy. My muscles are screaming in agony and my limbs remain motionless. I undo the seatbelt, with my hand trembling violently, and clutch my throbbing head. One of my hands slips down the side of my face. I pull it back in front of me and see a streak of glistening red across my palm. I'm bleeding. I move my head back slightly but that just causes me to feel light headed.

"Not a good idea." I groan.

My hearing begins to return to normal and I hear sirens approaching rapidly. Cops. I'd completely forgotten about them.

"I need to get out. Now." I mumble while looking out the car, my vision having cleared finally.

Thankfully, the car was in contact with the ground on the passenger's side and not on mine so I wasn't half-trapped. I pull on the door handle to open it. The door doesn't even budge an inch. I push harder but still nothing. Panic had set in completely by now. Hoping I don't bruise myself further, I ram the door with my shoulder and it flies open, while falling off its hinges.

"Whoops. Not like anyone cares though anyway." I mutter, my lips working better now.

I clamber out the car, disoriented, and stagger forwards before swiftly limping away. I look behind me and see that the police cars have stopped, with officers getting out of their cars running towards me. I'm done. How was I supposed to out run them when I couldn't even jog, let alone sprint?

A motorbike unexpectedly appears from the alleyway up ahead. Wait, it's the same one orange one I saw ten minutes ago. It stops in front of me. The driver reaches out and signals to me to get on the bike behind her. I limp faster and grasp her outstretched arm while scrambling onto the bike ignoring the protests of my leg muscles. As I loosely grab her waist, we spin around and drive off back down the alleyway away from the cops to my relief.

I was having serious trouble staying awake though and I could feel my eyelids drooping. The driver's fragrance is intoxicating and its sweet scent travels up my nose, causing me to feel even drowsier. Luckily the noise of the bike, as well as the fact that we're constantly turning and twisting onto different roads, manage to keep me conscious albeit barely. I hope we arrive at wherever we were going soon or I really am going to end up passing out and falling off onto the road.

Arya POV

It all played out exactly as I feared it would. I beckon to the injured boy to get on and he grabs the arm I extend before settling behind me. I then do a 180 and sprint back down Kynance Way back to the Wardens base, hoping that he wasn't severely harmed.

* * *

**So, Arya was sort of right then. Eragon wrecked big time. Anyways, next chapter up in at least a week's time, if not likely before then, where things start to get moving. Once again, review if you can and I'll see you next chapter. **


	4. Questions But No Answers Yet

**Next chapter then folks. As promised, a fair amount of characters introduced here, mostly from the books and one or two minor OCs. Plot unfolds partially, secrets are revealed and things get into motion. R&R and enjoy.**

** Krokodyl: No worries, I will. Although, read the note at the end, like I said above. And ah, fair enough, missed that one when proofreading. And thanks :D I don't live in London but I live about an hour's drive away from it and yes I do intend to. I'm starting this September in fact. Yourself?**

** Dill Dragon: Races are always exciting, didn't you know? ;) And you can't blame him, he's just about bleeding out. Thanks for the compliment again.**

**P.S. Guys, make sure you read the A.N. at the end. It's important regarding updates and my exams coming up. **

Chapter 4 - Questions But No Answers Yet

Arya POV

As we ride back, I feel the boy loosely wrap his arms around my waist. I shift slightly at the contact and feel my cheeks tint somewhat. It must be the humidity; it did seem like a warm night when I was walking about earlier.

Soon, my mind wanders and I replay the memory of the race in my head, with mixed feelings of resentment and disbelief.

_I drew near to the speeding cars just as they were slowing down to turn onto Southwell Gardens. Now I was expecting both the Nissan and the Porsche to barely stumble around the corner i.e. look like a bunch of amateurs. _

_Instead I'm dumbfounded as the Nissan drifted effortlessly around the corner onto the next road, without hitting any curbs or sliding out of control. The car did falter slightly and the tail swung out more than it should have. Nonetheless, whoever that boy was, he had skill unquestionably. The same couldn't be said for the Porsche driver however, going by the screeching tyre sounds and dull clunk as he clipped the pavement._

_I braked sharply and eased round the corner, leaning down and shifting my body weight by hanging off the bike, while keeping the bike itself fairly upright. I have my dad to thank for my ability in driving motorcycles. As soon as I was 17, I implored him to let me get a license and ride his bikes in the garage. He soon conceded but made me hone my technique to ridiculous ends, so I would minimise the risk of crashing or tumbling off of one. So far, I've had zero accidents in the year I've been riding motorbikes. Maybe it has paid off after all…_

_I rode through the trail of smoke created by the Nissan drifting, making sure I kept my distance. If one of the cars did have an accident, I had no intention of being caught up in it myself. They quickly built up speed and slowed once again to turn into Grenville Road it seemed this time. _

_As they did, I was shocked again at the proficiency of the Nissan driver. He managed to catch the Porsche on the inside as it was turning, drifting past without making any contact whatsoever. This time there was more smoke as he went round the corner much faster. I continued to follow them, riding through the obscurity and rounding the corner smoothly as the cars accelerated. As I anticipated, the other driver overtook the Nissan after a hundred metres or so. All that skill was for nothing since the Porsche simply had more horsepowers and speed. _

_Squinting ahead, I peered through the back window of the Nissan and saw the boy frequently turn his head, as if he was searching for something in the car. He stopped his search suddenly and then refocused on the road ahead. What on earth was he looking for? More importantly, what had he found? I had a feeling I would find out later on in the race. And I did. _

_As they raced down Grenville Road, I expected them to turn off onto Cornwall Gardens or Kynance Mews. Instead they maintained their current course and continued straight on. I realised exactly where they were heading. They were going to go down Victoria Grove, a one way road. At this time of night? That's suicide I thought to myself. One small mistake and either one of them could end up getting struck head on by a lorry, end of story. Permanently. _

_I decided to follow them anyway but on the pavement since it should be empty at night. I hoped it was anyway. I didn't particularly feel like running people over today. _

_When they reached Victoria Grove, the Porsche driver recklessly braked, turned in hard and then immediately swung to the left to avoid a vehicle. The Nissan driver was more sensible and smoothly rounded the corner, while hugging the right side of the road. I nodded my head at his rationality: at least he wasn't some braggart willing to risk his own safety over a street race. _

_I too carefully took the corner and immediately rode up onto the right hand side pavement, cautious of any bystanders that may have been further on. Fortunately, I encountered none and the cars on the road succeeded in dodging all oncoming vehicles in their way. I breathed a sigh of relief. But there were some close moments, especially the one concerning the lorry and the Nissan. I feared the car was about to collide head-on since the lorry might not have been able to brake in time. That would have meant instant death for the boy driving it. _

_I squinted ahead once more and saw the boy wiping his hands on himself. He was probably sweating like hell having just sped down a one way road the opposite way. I wasn't surprised. _

_As the cars turned the next corner, with the Nissan drifting again, I decided to call it a night and head back home. It was the final straight by the looks of it and so far no serious incidents had occurred. 'What could go wrong?' I thought to myself. _

_I twisted the right grip hard and felt the bike shoot forward, revelling in the sudden burst of speed. Supercars and hypercars might boast power and thrill but nothing comes close to the sensation of hurtling down the road at 170mph while on two wheels. It's simply incredible._

_All of a sudden the Nissan accelerated tremendously with spouts of blue fire protruding from its twin exhaust pipes. Nitrous. So that's what he had found in the car and, wisely, saved for the very last section of the race. The tide had changed. _

_The Nissan flew past the Porsche after fifteen seconds roughly and continued to streak down the road, approaching the finishing point i.e. the traffic lights. I too overtook the Porsche a few seconds later and began to advance on the Nissan, closing the gap between us continuously. The boy in the Nissan glanced up at this rear-view mirror and froze temporarily as he spotted me looming towards him. _

_As I was passing him, I noticed that he jumped in fright and ended up hitting his head on the roof of his car. I saw him shouting, likely cursing, loudly as well afterwards which made the corners of my lips rise faintly. It was fairly humorous. _

_I turned off onto Kynance Way, a small alleyway, and came to a halt, putting the bike in neutral with the clutch out while leaning to one side slightly. _

_A minute or so later, the Porsche raced by back up Gloucester Road and I heard sirens. Cops. And it sounded like there were a large number of them. I quickly engaged the clutch, shifted into first and hurried back down the alleyway. They were after the drivers, the boy being one of them. Somebody must have tipped them off about today's night race but instead they unintentionally discovered this one._

_I braked sharply and came to a standstill at the entrance to the alleyway, checking to see what exactly was happening before interfering if necessary. What I saw next though was the nightmare I feared would transpire during the race. Something that had successfully been averted until now: wrecking. _

_The Nissan spun round completely and began to hasten back up the road as the Porsche had done earlier. The boy then looked as if he was going to drift onto Kynance Mews, approximately 10 meters from where I was parked. As the tail of the car swung out, one of the rear tyres had a blowout. The back right one specifically._

_I watched in horror as the car twisted around further than intended and slammed into the pavement. It raised off the ground a good three meters as it revolved through the air, before colliding into a streetlight and plummeting back down in a sideways position. There was a resounding crash as it hit the ground and then it was eerily silent, apart from the background noise of the police sirens droning on incessantly. My eyes were fully open in devastation. I couldn't believe what had just occurred. _

_Then the irony of the situation hit me: drifting was the safest part of the race compared to speeding down one-way roads against oncoming traffic, yet drifting had indirectly caused the worst thing to occur anyway. _

_The tyre had blown out due to wearing in the race; that last drift was enough to pop it completely. I was surprised at this since it was a short race, relative to the ones we have. I guessed the tyre treads must have been pretty worn out already, as the amount of rubber burnt was definitely insufficient to cause a fairly fresh tyre to burst. _

_I cursed the Porsche driver for being such an asshole and putting the boy up to the race. Then again, the boy should've checked the tyres in any case to make sure they weren't unsuitable or damaged. Which they turned out be. _

_At the same time, I was torn between sprinting to the car and ensuring the boy was ok but risk getting apprehended by the police; or sitting here and evading the cops but being unable to aid the injured boy. I slammed my fist on the petrol tank in frustration at not being able to do anything._

_Thankfully, my dilemma was solved by the driver door suddenly flying open and falling off of its hinges, with the injured boy scrambling out the car a few seconds later. I rapidly skimmed over his figure and it appeared he was fairly unscathed on the whole luckily. The only visible injuries were the large, bleeding gash running down the side of his face, a fractured or sprained ankle judging by his limp and a few bruises likely. I couldn't say much for internal injuries however. I hoped he wasn't severely harmed further. _

_He took a glance back and saw the police officers running towards him, his posture slouching and becoming dejected, no doubt thinking he would be arrested for sure. As he turned around though, he finally spotted me and I urgently beckoned him to get on my bike while reaching out to him with one of my arms. His eyes brightened momentarily and he began to hobble towards me immediately, picking up the pace as he went along. _

_As he awkwardly clambered onto the bike, I took my hand off the brake lever and spun around completely, before rocketing back down Kynance Way towards base. _

The memory ends and I shake my head slowly as I process all the sights, sounds and feelings once again. I try to focus utterly on getting back to the Warden's lair as quickly as possible but I can't help wonder - who was the boy? How had he learnt to race so skilfully? More importantly, who taught to him to drift with such precision?

I force those questions to the recesses of mind, cautiously storing them away for future answering. I turn onto Kelso Way and then shortly onto St. Margaret's Lane, before going round the back of Copthome Tara Hotel. The Warden's base is a rather large two storey rectangular building, joined to the back of the hotel. It's 'supposedly' used to store various spare supplies such as bed sheets, utensils, bedside lamps, desks and so on.

In reality half of it is dedicated to storing, repairing and tuning our cars i.e. a garage; the other half is living quarters where we discuss plans and strategies, relax or throw house parties on birthdays or random nights when we win races. And when I say 'back of the hotel', I might as well say an extension of the hotel since the inside almost screams 5-star luxury.

As we pull in, I spot a few cars from the Paladins and Smithies parked outside. They must be here to debate over the night race, claiming some injustice probably. I briefly stop the bike outside the garage, enter the code and drive on inside hastily. Ripping off my helmet, I yell at the others inside.

"Guys! I need help, now!"

"Woah, what's all the commo- Who the fuck is this guy?!" shouts Rum. His full name is Rumare but everyone calls him Rum to tease him since he loathes the drink so much. He's pretty much used to the name now though.

"He was out racing and wrecked. Save the question for later Rum, please. Can you clear the junk from that worktop over there? We need to put him down somewhere."

Raven and Nirya both come running over swiftly. Of course, they also barrage me with questions at the same time.

"Who's the dude?" asks Raven.

"How was he hurt? How bad is it? What should we do? What can we-" Nirya panics.

She can never seem to deal with a situation in a composed manner.

"Nirya. I'll answer questions later. Right now, for the boy's sake, I need you to go get Wylandriah. Her expertise will be needed in helping me clean up any cuts and treating the boy properly."

She hesitates for a moment before sprinting off next door into the living area.

"And Raven, get me some bandages. Quickly."

"How bad is he?" asks Rum, as we carry the now unconscious boy to the worktop surface.

His head lolls to one side as we gently lay him down. I grab some tissues and antiseptic cream while Raven rummages around for the bandages.

"Not too serious. I don't think he's fractured anything and he hasn't been stabbed by any flying shrapnel. I'm worried about the laceration on the side of his face though and whether he's concussed."

"Now you sound like a bloody GP. Speak normally Arya, damn it. I suppose laceration refers to this large cut, right?" says Raven.

"Give the man a thousand pounds. _Yes_ Raven, what else did you think I was referring to? Now cut me some bandages."

The door swings open and Wylandriah rapidly walks over, her face seemingly confused over something.

"Arya, what on earth is going on? Nirya's babbling about some boy you brought back with you? Is there something I should kno-" I cut her off instantly, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment at what she was implying.

"No! No, no, no. Dear lord, Nirya what have you been telling her?" That was a big mistake.

"Well, I told her that there was this boy, who's pretty hot, anyway, um, where was I? Oh right! Anyway, I told her you brought this guy back who was unconscious and you needed her help for stitches or something…?"

Sometimes words cannot express my disbelief at Nirya's 'moments'. This was one of those times.

"Never mind. Thanks for the help Nirya, you can go next door if you like. Wylandriah, could you help me out here please?" Nirya rapidly heads next door. She's quite squeamish and hates seeing even small amounts of blood.

"Of course." Wylandriah inspects the cut and examines his face for any other marks. "I assume you've cleaned and disinfected the laceration, yes?"

"Great, two medics. This calls for a joke. 'Doctor, doctor. I feel like a pair of curtains. Pull yourself together!'" Raven mutters under his breath, waving his hands in the air.

I give him a withering look before returning my attention to the boy.

"That's been taken care of, yes."

"Okay, I'll bandage his face but first we should check for any other injuries. Take off his hoodie and top."

"Why me? How about you-"

"Arya, don't argue with me. Just do it. I need to prepare the bandages and antiseptic properly. Please don't interrupt me."

"Fine." I unzip his hoodie before carefully pulling it off the boy's arms, without unsettling him too much, and placing it to one side.

My eyes widen a fraction as I see the faint outlines of muscle contours protruding from his top. I suppose it could just be the fact that he's wearing a close-fitting shirt.

That turns out to be such a lie.

When I gently pull the top off over his head completely, I involuntarily bite my lower lip as I take in his muscled torso. His entire upper body is well-built but not massively; it's more toned. His slim six pack, wide shoulders and peaked arms still make him seem powerful though.

"Like what ya see Arya? Don't stare too long now - you might pass out from all the excitement. Bow chicka wow-"

"Raven, so help me God, I _will_ hurt you if you don't _shut_ that mouth of yours. Go piss off next door if you're not going to help." Raven's a fun person to hang around with but he's still a typical guy.

"Somebody's PMS-ing…"

"Raven. Leave, now. You're of no use to anyone here anymore so just go." says Wylandriah tersely.

"Alright, alright. I'm going. And this is the thanks I get for trying to be helpful…"

"Raven…" He looks at her irritated face before quickly bolting for the door. When Wylandriah's even remotely ticked off, everyone knows you should probably run for your lives.

"Arya, does he have any further injuries?"

"Only a few bruises and minor cuts here or there. Nothing major. But, I remember seeing him limp severely when he got out the car. I'm not sure if it's a twisted ankle or something more."

"I'd better take a look at that after I apply the bandages. Put his clothes back on and-"

"Before you ask, I am _not_ taking his trousers off."

"I wasn't going to ask you to do that. Calm down. I was about to say roll up his trouser legs to his knees, while I take his shoes off to get a look at that injured ankle of his."

"Alright."

Wylandriah wrapped the prepared bandage around his face and head, before studying his ankle for a few seconds and stating it was just a simple sprain that should heal in a day or so.

That boy is extremely fortunate: he managed to get out of a serious wreck with just a few scrapes and no broken bones. I've known people to fall into comas or shatter bones after having an accident as severe as his.

"Arya, Rum. Take the boy upstairs and put him in the guest room. Let him rest for a while and hopefully he'll wake up soon."

"Gotcha. C'mon Arya, help me lift the fat sod."

I smile faintly at Rum's humour before picking up the boy's legs, while Rum grabs his chest. Rum was a more mature version of Raven: he was entertaining most of the time but he knew when to become serious and not fool around.

"Put him in the nearest room. That way we can get to him quickly if something happens." suggests Rum.

"Good thinking."

"My ideas are always good. Psh, I am wasted here."

"You will be wasted but on the floor likely from the amount you'll end up drinking tonight."

"Ha. Ha. But seriously, Arya, what's up? You've been a bit ticked off today. Something happen at home?"

"No, no. Just a stressful day, awkward party and parents arguing as always. Sorry, I didn't mean to be bitchy."

"Nah, it's fine. Just have a few drinks and lighten up."

"Rum, you know I don't drink except on extremely rare occasions. So stop trying to convert me you alcoholic."

"Alcoholic? I think of myself more as a refined taster, an expert in the field of-"

"Drinking too many shots before singing horrifically, sounding like a dog whistle, until you pass out and make strange noises on the floor. Oh yeah, that's some expertise Rum. Thanks for being here to show us." I can't help but smirk as the image of Rum sprawled on the floor comes into my head.

"Way to break it to a man he can't sing well Arya. Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to go downstairs now and play on the PS3 with some of the others for a while. You going to come down too or get some shut-eye?"

"I'm not sure. I'll call Mum and Dad now and tell them I'm staying over tonight though. Good night Rum."

"'Night Arya. And loosen up a bit!" he calls down the hall. I wish I could sometimes but I'm always serious for some reason; it's just my passive nature I suppose.

After calling home, I begin to walk towards the stairs but I turn around instead, back to the room the injured boy was in. I lean against the door frame, watching his chest rise and fall periodically as he breathes unconsciously.

I still couldn't wrap my head around how well he could handle a car in a street race. I had never seen him in school before so perhaps he had only moved here recently. I want to know how and where he learned to drive however. Maybe he was taught before he-

"Get off your high horse you stuck up nob!"

"Stuck up nob?! At least I'm not some short, fat arse!"

My thought is interrupted by the sound of Orik arguing with someone. I head downstairs to the commotion and come across the usual scene: Orik and his gang swapping insults with a group of Wardens. Including Tamil. No wonder this started.

Tamil is a notoriously arrogant person and starts fights frequently. I personally dislike him immensely, as do many others.

"Enough! Stop acting like a bunch of baboons! Orik, what are you so irritated about?"

"He-"

"Tamil, just let Orik speak. So?" I ask him expectantly.

"_Tamil_ here comes up to me and starts slagging off my car just because the Wardens lost tonight's race. I told him to back off and stop being so jealous but, instead, he carries on so I tell him to get off his high-"

"Horse, yes I heard. Tamil, why do you have to pick fights? Can you not think before you speak? My God, it's as if you have to start something every _single_ night. Just lay off for your sake, alright? Or one day you are going to regret it when the other person kicks you in the face."

"Whatever."

I cross my arms over my chest and give him a flat stare.

"Okay, sorry." He says while rolling his eyes.

"Good, now scat. You're lucky Wylandriah wasn't here or you would have been out of here in seconds."

He stalks off, back to his friends, and I walk over to Orik. He's the head of the Smithies, just as Wylandriah is the leader of us, the Wardens. I've known him for a few months now and he's a pretty cool person.

"That guy is a douche. Why do you even let him in here?" he asks.

"I'm starting to wonder the same thing actually. So, did the Smithies win tonight's race? Or no such luck?"

"Oh we won alright. At least 20 metres ahead of everyone else, haha!"

"Who came second then?"

"The Forsworn. Wardens came third and Paladins fourth."

Someone suddenly shouts across the room as Orik says this.

"Only because the Forsworn are a bunch of cheating arseholes!" It's Murtagh. He walks over, along with Nasuada, with a grim expression plastered on his face.

However Orik's face stiffens and he walks off as soon as he sees Murtagh coming. Orik's never seen eye to eye with him for some reason; I remember he told me the day we met "not to trust him." There's nothing wrong with Murtagh though from what I can tell: he's generally a cheerful, upbeat person. The only 'odd' thing is that whenever we mention his parents he goes deadly quiet. That's always been a mystery to everyone since he's never explained why he doesn't like to talk about them. So now we try to avoid the topic altogether.

"Murtagh, mind your language." chides Nasuada.

"Sorry Nasda but you know that's what they are. Little shits." Only he calls Nasuada 'Nasda' since it sounds like the supermarket which she hates. I still don't know why come to think of it. I bet it's something to do with Murtagh though.

"Murtagh…"

"Alright, alright. So, what was that scuffle about then Arya? Tamil being a jerk as always?"

"Got it in one. He got annoyed that we lost and the Smithies won. He then proceeded to walk over to Orik and insult his car basically."

"Now that _is_ risky. No one likes having a bite taken out of their ride. I'd have socked that pussybag in the face."

"And then started a fight in the process. Great thinking Murtard."

"Well I'm sorry, _Nasda_. Not everyone possesses your most knowledgeable brain, m'lady." He bows mockingly which earns him a slap in the face from her. That's Nasuada for you.

"Ow! Woman, cut the violence! Jesus, this is gonna hurt in the morning." groans Murtagh as he rubs his cheek gently.

"Good. Arya, I heard from Wylandriah you rescued some injured guy. What happened exactly?"

"Hello, what's this? Arya-"

"Murtagh, I'd be quiet if I were you unless you want a punch in the face this time." I tell him while giving him a frosty look.

"I'm just gonna leave. Otherwise I'll end up like that injured boy probably. Women these days, sheesh." He walks off over to a crowd of Paladins and immediately joins their conversation with a grin on his face.

"About the boy, I was wandering around town when I saw him agree to some random man's offer to race him. I decided to get on my bike and follow them and essentially the boy won easily, even though he was in a Nissan while the other man was in a Porsche. He ended up wrecking though when he tried to run from the police that showed up moments afterwards. When he got out of the car, he staggered forward and saw me up ahead. I told him to get on the bike and I drove him here. He only passed out when arrived. Right now he's upstairs in a guest room resting but hopefully he'll wake up soon because I have a fair amount of questions for him."

"So what made you go after him then hmm?" Nasuada asks with a sly smile on her face.

"Not you too. Why is everyone implying I like him. I don't even know him for crying out loud. I just had a feeling-"

"That you had fallen in love at first sight?"

"Very funny Nasuada. I'm dying with laughter. Not. I just had a feeling it might end badly which it did in the end, so I'm glad I followed them."

"What did you want to ask him then? You said you had questions about him."

"He was drifting like an expert, easily at our level, during the race and he handled the car with precision. That's not all though. At the end of the race he used nitrous to get ahead of the Porsche and when I rode past him, he wasn't panicking or nervous at all. He was probably focused before he hit his head on the roof." I smile slightly at that last statement.

"He hit his head on the roof? How did he manage that?" laughs Nasuada, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I imagine I scared him as I rode by which made him jump. But what I want to know is where did he learn to race so skilfully?"

"How good was he? As in, his drifting, was it really up to par?"

"Easily Nasuada. He's at the base level of our drivers, no question. Maybe even better than that."

"Really? Interesting. I might have to meet this boy, when he wakes up, and see if he wants to join the Paladins. We could do with a new driver and, if he's as good as you say, he might just fit the requirements. Anyway, I need to head off since it's 1:00am now. My Dad will start to get pissy if I don't get back. I'll see you on Monday."

"You too Nasuada, bye."

I decide to go back upstairs and check on the boy. However, when I enter his room I find an empty bed and, more importantly, no clue as to where he might have gone. Wonderful.

**Suspense. Where has Eragon wandered off too? And what did you think of Orik, Nasuada and Murtagh? Also, for those of you who haven't got it yet (but I think practically everyone has) the Smithies are the dwarves, the Wardens the elves, the Forsworn the… Forsworn (hehe) and the Paladins the humans/the Varden. They all, except the Forsworn, like to hang out together though and they all have individual bases. **

**So please review and I'll see you next chapter.**

**P.S. IMPORTANT NOTE! Due to exams from the 14****th**** - 28****th**** January, I will likely not update until the 28****th**** at minimum. I seriously need to focus on these exams guys as they will make or break my university acceptance. I'm really, really sorry. I want to continue badly myself since I'm getting into the main plot soon but I have to revise and do well in these exams. Thanks for understanding. **


	5. Who Are You?

**Onwards then. **

…**That sounded weird. Never mind. Enjoy the chapter guys and review please! Also, check out 'Half-Breed' and 'The Hidden God'. Both exceptional stories in their own rights. **

** Dill Dragon: Thanks for the reviews. And I hope it will be too :D Well, I dunno about friendly but I'm not going down the 'she's a mean person and suddenly she's nice/loves Eragon route. You'll see how it turns out… they will meet soon. Very soon. And Angela will be in this but slightly later on. It should, according to my plan, be in 2 chapters or so time. Maybe less. And she will be semi-major. **

** Krokodyl: Thanks for the review and cheers :)**

** Guest: I agree with you actually, that's part of what I think about her as well. He tried to fix her near the end of series but I think it only half worked. For me anyway. And everyone has criticisms for CP but he's still a cool writer. Thanks again.**

** Evatross: Thanks for the reviews and the compliments. :)**

** 'other' Guest(s): Thanks for the reviews. :)**

**P.S. See the A/N at the end for some basic info on the cars, as requested by DemonzMagic, for those unfamiliar with the cars mentioned so far. **

Chapter 5 - Who Are You?

Eragon POV

I open my eyes slowly, blinking rapidly to adjust to the lighting of my surroundings.

Pain courses through me instantly, causing me to groan loudly and shut my eyes again. My head is thumping, my muscles are sore and, for some reason, the side of my face itches like I had a flee infestation.

Of course. I wrecked.

Sighing, I drag my hand down my face slowly as I piece together what happened. The cops appearing; spinning out of control as I tried to escape; the car flipping over and slamming onto the ground abruptly; a woman on a motorcycle helping me get on her bike before driving off; the roaring of the motorbike as we raced down the roads.

She must have taken me here and patched me up. I feel the side of my face, trying to trace the large cut I know is there, before realising it was covered up by bandages. And antiseptic, going by the fact that the itching is irritatingly me increasingly.

I open my eyes once more, bracing myself for the incoming agony. This time it's less and so I carefully raise myself into a sitting position on the bed I appeared to have been sleeping in.

"Christ!" I cry.

My legs are aching from cramp and almost refuse to move. I take a look around the room I'm in and try to figure out where I am currently.

It seems to be an ordinary bedroom but it's filled with four other beds. That's odd. It gives the impression of it being a hotel room, not a room in a house, which is where I thought I'd be. I can't help but wonder why she didn't drive straight to the hospital however…

…Then again, I'm grateful she didn't otherwise Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom would have found out about my 'little escapade'. Then I'd be out of the frying pan and into the furnace, forget fire.

Shit, I think suddenly. What was the time? I hastily look at my watch. It reads 2:30 a.m. Good. That means there's still time for me to get back without raising too much suspicion. Although, the bandages will certainly attract attention; I can't afford to take them off yet though. I'll think of something later but first I need to get out of here.

I try to stand up which leads to me collapsing painfully back onto the bed as my legs refuse to support my bodyweight.

"Let's try that again shall we…" I mutter.

Gritting my teeth, I gradually get up while holding to the railing of the bed for support. I swear my legs are made of jelly right now - they're shaking like no tomorrow.

Steadying myself, I slowly take a step forward and then another, before releasing my arm from the bed and getting used to moving once more. Re-learn to walk: Check.

I walk out the room and check to see if anybody else is around.

"Yo?! Anyone home?" Silence is my only response. "Guess not then…"

I turn left down the hallway and proceed to stumble/hobble down the corridor, holding onto door frames for added support. Eventually I reach a fire exit which I go through and end up outside on a metal walkway. To my right are a set of metal stairs, fixed and wrapped around the building. They head directly to the ground thankfully and are lit up by small lamps too. Even better: I don't really fancy walking blindly down some stairs with a pair of dodgy legs.

My body sways unsteadily as I head down, even while I'm gripping the handrails. Dizziness was starting to set in and my legs were tiring quickly all of a sudden. I somehow manage to reach the ground and the moment I do, I sit down beside the wall of the building, leaning against it for comfort. Who knew walking _down_ stairs could be such a feat?

Suddenly the front door to the place bursts open with a loud bang and out steps a boy, with a stern look on his face. His hair is a black liquorice colour, slightly spiky and messy looking. His clothes were pretty casual: white plimsolls, black wash jeans and a red gilet jacket over a red patterned t-shirt.

"Arya, I found him! Outside, by the fire escape stairs!" the boy yells.

"Thank god." The voice that replies is feminine and unknown. But the woman who steps out was the same one I saw before I stepped into the Nissan. The same one with the silky hair, satin-like skin and rosy lips. The same one with the emerald eyes.

I try to speak up but all that comes out is a weak croak due to my throat being incredibly dry. She notices this and signals to the black-haired boy to get some water. As he runs back inside, she walks over me to quickly with concern shining through in her eyes.

"Try not to talk or move. You need to rest, not be up and about." Her voice is so alluring and soothing at the same time. She might as well have been singing a lullaby since my eyelids were already beginning to droop.

The boy comes back out holding a glass of water which he passes to the woman.

"Thanks Murtagh. After he's had a drink of water, can you give me a hand getting back upstairs into the guest room?"

"Sure, no problem. But…" He trails off with a shrewd look on his face.

"But what?" she replies.

"…I still want to know the full story i.e. why you were following him in the first place, how you found him-" Come to think of it, I'd like to know the 'full' story as well. She was following me? Since when?

"Yes, alright already. I really don't understand why you want to know so badly but I guess it's something to do with that perverted mind of yours. Just help me carry him upstairs."

Arya POV

I dart outside and back down to the living room.

I can't see Nirya, Rum or the others anywhere amongst the people present but my eyes land on Murtagh. I call him over.

"Murtagh. The boy's disappeared from his room."

"What do you mean disappeared?! How could he have just 'up and at em' and vanished? I thought he was supposed to be unconscious. Honestly Arya, if you can't-"

"Just be serious for one second _Murtard_. I think he must have woken up and wandered off. Go see if he's outside and I'll check the garage and the other bedrooms."

"Okay, fine. I'll round up some of our boys and scour the outskirts of the building. Hopefully your dazzling prince hasn't gotten too far."

"Murtagh…" I'm seriously not amused at the moment. For all I know, the boy could be lying in the car park unconscious or worse still.

"I'm going, I'm going. Jeez."

He hurries off back to his group of friends and they all rush outside, dispersing in different directions. I run back upstairs and begin checking all the rooms. I'm beyond flustered as I check the penultimate room with still no sign of the boy, all the while thinking I should have kept a closer eye on him.

Murtagh's voice rings out suddenly, claiming he's found him. I rush back downstairs and out the front door, looking for the boy.

"Thank god." I let out a breath I'd been holding unknowingly with relief.

There he is. He's breathing heavily while sitting against the wall, with one of his hands propped up on his raised knee and the other limp beside him. He spots me as I walk out and tries to speak but fails, only managing a weak croak.

"Murtagh, can you fetch a glass of water please? I think his throats dried up."

"Will do."

"Try not to talk or move. You need to rest, not be up and about." I tell him when I crouch down beside him. Once again I find myself being drawn to his well-cut jaw line, chiselled face and casually frayed brown hair. Those coffee eyes of his no longer hold excitement but anxiety; they also flickered with recognition as I walked over to him. At least he hasn't suffered from amnesia.

Murtagh comes out a moment later with the water. I hand it to the boy and ask Murtagh to give me a hand in getting him back upstairs. I'm fairly sure I couldn't carry the boy myself taking into account what I'd seen of his bare torso.

My face heats up at the memory and I shift on my toes slightly.

"Sure, no problem. But…" Murtagh replies but trails off with a shrewd look on his face.

"But what?" I ask back.

"…I still want to know the full story i.e. why you were following him in the first place, how you found him-"

"Yes, alright already." I agree to his request, mentioning his perverted brain, before turning back to the boy. He looks tired judging by his drooping eyelids and head lolling forward occasionally.

"Come on, Murtagh. Help me carry him back." He comes over and loops one of the boy's arms around his shoulder while supporting the boy's waist with one of his arms. I loop the boy's other arm over my shoulder and mirror his support.

Gradually, we lead the boy inside as he limps along with our aid and set him back gently in the bed in the same guest room. Along the way we make sure to avoid the garage and living room filled with throngs of people to avoid any 'unwanted' questions. The boy speaks up as we lay him down.

"I need to get back home. My Aunt and Uncle are going to be seriously worried and pretty pissed off. I was meant to be back at around 1:00a.m." His voice waivers a little as he speaks but it's deep and baritone. And damningly appealing.

"I can drive him back Arya; my Turismo is out back." Murtagh offers. He turns to the boy. "You don't live too far away I'm guessing?"

"Just on Victoria Road. I don't think it's too far away but I've only moved here yesterday, so I have no idea of distances right now." He replies back unsurely but his voice is steady now.

"That's about 20 minutes away. I'll take him."

"Alright then. Just don't have an accident Murtagh; I think the boy's been through enough today." I say.

"My name's Eragon and thanks for asking."

"He must be healing already if he's pulling out the sarcasm." laughs Murtagh.

"We were a bit pre-occupied with, oh, let me see… saving your butt." I reply to the boy, not appreciating his change of tone. He sighs before speaking.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get tetchy; I just really need to go home and sleep. Thanks for taking care of me and helping me out. If the fuzz had got me, things would've gotten out of hand fast. Much appreciated."

"It's fine, I'm sorry for snapping like that too. It was no big deal. I couldn't have just left you to get caught when clearly the other driver should have been arrested. Although, next time, check the tyre treads before you race, okay?"

"Tyre treads…? Wait, you mean I had a _blowout_?"

"Exactly. The back right tyre burst."

"Well shit. I knew the car must have been faulty one way or another. Don't worry, I will next time." He smiles at me and I feel the corners of my lips curl up in response.

Murtagh suddenly clears his throat _very_ loudly on purpose and coughs in a ridiculously over the top fashion, gaining both of our attentions.

"We should go now mate. It's getting late like you said." he says smirking evidently.

"Yeah but I think we should check out that _cough_ of yours first, right?" says Eragon, glancing at me and scowling at Murtagh.

"I agree strongly. How about a _pat_ on the back to clear it up?" I reply, smiling dangerously at Murtagh.

"I'm good thanks. Really, it's, um, nothing. But I bet Eragon would-"

"Finish that sentence Murtagh and you won't be able to drool over Nasuada again." I threaten him.

"I-I don't _drool_ over Nasuada! Don't make up such crap!"

"So explain to me why you're blushing like a raspberry then?"

"Get served Murtard." says Eragon grinning fully.

"Not you too! Why is my nickname always Murtard. I feel so hated!" he finishes with a dramatic, sorrowful pose.

"Dude, don't ever go into acting. Just don't. You'll get a sore ass from being thrown out of theatres constantly."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Come on wise guy, off we go. And Arya, don't forget! Full story, okay?"

"Yeah. I'll see you around… Arya, right?" Eragon says while looking at me.

"Right. Stay safe. And yes, yes Murtagh. Just go already." I reply.

"I will, no worries. Unless Murtshit here can't drive properly."

"Take that back Eraturd!" Murtagh shouts back.

"Stop shouting, seriously. I've got a killer headache here and you're not helping. At all. And real good comeback there."

"Like your comment was any better." They continue bickering down the hall as Murtagh supported Eragon once again. I shake my head, amused at their antics. They act like a typical pair of brothers.

Wait. I realise I'd forgotten to ask Eragon about his racing abilities but Murtagh's crimson red GranTurismo MC had already sped off into the night. Damn. How am I supposed to find out now?

Murtagh POV

As I drive Eragon back to his house, I decide to break the silence that had settled in the car and find out a bit more about him.

"Where'd you move from then? West side or East side?"

"How'd you know I moved from London?"

"You got the accent Eragon. Trust me, I know."

"Well you're right. It was from the East side, Dagenham."

"Knew it. Kensington must seem like paradise then."

"That's pretty much what my Uncle said when I told him. Still, Kensington might have the bling but I've lived in Dagenham my whole life. It grew on me a lot."

"I can understand that since I only moved here last year myself."

"Really? How come?"

"I used to live in Guildford-"

"_Guildford?_ That's one of the richest towns in the country. If you don't own a Ferrari and you live there, then you're classed as poor for God's sake. No wonder you're rolling in a Maserati."

"Yeah, I know. Like I was saying, I lived in Guildford most of my life since I was five, I think; can't really remember much before then. Anyway, my Dad's a solicitor who works for Zar'roc Law & Co-

"You mean the seriously big legal firm?"

"That one but Eragon you really need to stop interrupting or we're never gonna get anywhere."

"Alright, I'll shut up then." He crosses his arms over his chest and looks away mock-offended, like some drama queen. I chuckle at the sight: he was a fun-loving guy for sure.

"Thanks for being so helpful. Basically, my Dad 'apparently' got promoted a year ago and moved to a new office in, you guessed it, Kensington. I was just starting Year 11 then, so I was pretty miffed at the fact that I'd be leaving all my mates behind but I had to move with him. So I got put into Holland Park… School…"

"…What? I didn't say anything."

"Your face went all weird suddenly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind." I carry on telling him my story. "Yeah, I got accepted into Holland Park School so I've been going there for a year now. Finished my GCSEs, did good in them and now I've started AS Levels there. Speaking of which, what year are you in?"

"12. I've started AS too."

"So you're 17 then?"

"No shit Sherlock. What, did it take all of your brain power to figure that one out?"

"Screw you."

"Like I screwed your mother last night?"

I feel my face harden and my hands grip the steering wheel tightly causing my knuckles to whiten. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry Murtagh, I didn't mean to…"

"It's fine Eragon, you didn't know."

"So what happened to your Mum then? If you don't want to talk about it, it's cool."

"No, I don't mind. It's just that I've never known my mother; according to my Dad she left us when I was five."

"When you moved to Guildford?"

"Yeah. Exactly. What's frustrating is that all my memories of her are just hazy. I can't even remember her fucking face Eragon. Not her face, her voice, her touch, her…" I trail off, my voice steadily becoming a whisper.

I'd never spoken to anyone about my Mum: if anyone in the Varden asked, I told them she'd died when I was little and that was the end of conversation. I couldn't bear the sadness that welled up in me whenever the topic came up. So I make sure it never does now.

Yet here I am, spilling my heart out to this guy I'd known for about half an hour at most. How weird is that. Weirder still, I feel… comfortable talking to him about it. No tears come to my eyes; no burning rage clouds my mind.

I shake my head, clearing my mind of thoughts about her and just as I'm about to continue, Eragon speaks up.

"I understand how you feel. I really do." His voice is hollow almost, devoid of all emotion.

"How so?" I ask quietly.

"I've never know my Mum or Dad. And by never I mean since childbirth."

"Eragon-"

"All my life, I didn't know whether I was an orphan or some unwanted child." He practically spits the word 'unwanted', his voice dripping with venom.

"Who took care of you then?"

"Uncle Garrow and my older cousin Roran. Mum's side. He raised me like I was his son and Roran was pretty much an older brother to me. It wasn't perfect but it was better than an orphanage."

"I get what you mean; my Dad's never really been a part of my life. I used to spend most of my time at the gym with my trainer Tornac."

"Trainer?"

"Sort of boxing and self-defence stuff. No martial arts or anything fancy like that. But I always considered him to be more of a Dad than my biological one. Like I could talk to him about anything, relax, ask him to help with homework: the lot. I mean I even asked him advice on talking to chicks." I laugh half-heartedly at that last sentence.

"You said considered. Is he…?" Eragon doesn't finish the sentence. His eyes betray the fact that he already knows the answer.

"He bit the dust when I was 15. Heart attack. High blood pressure ran in his family, apparently, and he finally succumbed to it."

"Damn. At least you had good times with him, right?"

"Yeah, that's what matters I guess." Silence ensues for another few minutes before Eragon breaks it.

"Alright, enough of this depressing crap! You got an iPod on you?"

"Yeah. What you want to listen to?"

"Anything. Just nothing screamo or gloomy." I hit shuffle and 'Eminem - The Real Slim Shady' comes on.

"You have good taste my man."

"Well of course." I say while flipping my hand casually.

"I said no more acting Murtard. You're terrible. Bruce Lee would Kung-Fu your ass if he saw you."

"Whatever."

The chorus comes on suddenly. We both glance at each other, before rapping along with the song and waving one of our hands in the air each in a 'gun-shape', like a pair of typical chavs. We're both grinning like a bunch of idiots but it's hilarious, especially when Eragon gets tongue twisted on one of the lines.

"It's 'I'm Slim Shady, Yes I'm the Real Shady, All you other Slim Shady's are just imitating.' Get it right Eragon, come on."

"It's harder than you think Murtargh."

"Or maybe it's because you're a dumbass, dumbass."

"Yeah- Oi, Murtagh, you just passed Victoria Road you idiot. Turn around on the next road."

"Whoops. But there's no need to wait for the next road..." I say while smirking.

"What are you…" he says slowly, eyeing me curiously but I don't give him a chance to finish.

I shift down to third suddenly and yank the steering wheel to the right a full circle. A fraction of a second later, I sharply pull the handbrake causing the rear wheels to lock up abruptly. At the same time I press the clutch down to stop the engine stalling, with my other foot just touching the accelerator.

The car abruptly rotates rapidly in a tight circle with a screeching sound of the rear tyres. I let the steering wheel slip through my hands as we turn. I finally release the handbrake after 180 degrees and just before I do, I rev the engine to about 3000rpm before shifting down to first and letting the clutch go. The car pulls away quickly just as it finishes rotating.

Now that was what you called a _real_ handbrake turn.

I look over to Eragon as I turn onto Victoria Road and his facial expression turns from absolutely gobsmacked to one of respect.

"That was legendary! Where the hell did you learn to turn a car like that?" he asks with an excited tone.

"A magician never reveals his secrets. Sorry Ery. Maybe one day you'll find out."

"Really…? Fine then, be like that. I'll pry it out of you one day."

"Blah, blah. Whatever. Now, what number are you?"

"I don't know. But I can point it out to you… there! That one coming up on the left." I whistle in appreciation at the sight of the grand building.

"Nice place. Bet you don't mind moving here so much now, do you?"

"I guess it has its quirks. Cheers for the ride back Murtagh."

"No sweat. I'll see you around then. And drive safely next time!"

"Your one to talk!" He calls back.

I shake my head in amusement but just as I'm about to drive off, two people rush outside. One embraces him in a tight hug and the other stands in the doorway. The outside house lights turn on automatically with the commotion and I feel myself freeze up.

The figure hugging Eragon is a woman. The thing is, I feel like I should know her: the posture, the relieved smile, the grey eyes. My brain desperately tries to match a name to the face but I turn away, thinking I was imagining it or confusing her with someone else.

I breathe out slowly, releasing some of the pent up stress from the day and clearing my mind.

Great, I think. It's 3:00a.m. and Dad's probably going to have a fit when I return home. I head off while recounting the conversation I had with Eragon in my mind, which at least brings a slight smile to my face.

Eragon POV

I say goodbye to Murtagh and walk towards the house, bracing myself for Uncle Brom's lecture and Aunt Selena's mothering. However, before I've even taken a few steps forward, the front door swings open and they both rush out. Bollocks.

"Eragon! Where in the blazes have you been?!" roars Brom. "Do you have any idea what the time is?!"

"I-"

"Save it. Just get inside the house. Now. And why on earth do you have a bandage on your head?" Things are deteriorating pretty quickly. Great.

"Eragon, sweetheart. Where were you? I thought you were just going for a stroll?" says Aunt Selena, rushing over to me and hugging me tightly. "And you're hurt! What happened? Never mind for now, let's just go indoors." At least she doesn't get annoyed at me.

We all head back inside and Uncle Brom slams the front door shut, causing me to wince slightly. My head still feels a bit funky from the accident.

"Well?" he questions.

"Brom, just let it go dear. He needs to rest and he's injured: let him sleep now. We can find out tonight's events tomorrow." says Selena gently, laying her hands on his arm in an attempt to calm him down.

What a relief: I'll have some time to make up an excuse for this bandage. I know it's wrong of me to lie but things would get ugly if they knew what I had actually been doing. Besides, it was a one off; it's not like I'm going to go and join some professional street racing group am I?

"Fine. But your answers had better be damn good Eragon, I'm warning you now." He then walks off down the hallway into the kitchen.

"Aunt-"

"Eragon, it's fine. Go and get some rest sweetie. You must be exhausted. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight."

As she says this I feel an overwhelming surge of guilt tear through me. I can tell she's a bit annoyed since she only meets my eyes for a second before turning away and following Uncle Brom. I may have only known her for a day but I already hate myself for disappointing her.

"Way to go dipshit. First day here and you've made a stunning impression. A-fucking-star." I mutter to myself while trudging up the stairs miserably. Hopefully tomorrow would set things straight.

I'm still conflicted though: should I tell them the truth? Or bury this secret away, among the others I keep?

**And that's a wrap for this chapter. Next time: confessions of a moody teenager. Make sure to check out the car details/notes below if you're interested. As always, please review guys, spread the story and I'll see you all next chapter. Adios.**

**A few notes:-  
-Murtagh's not the same age as Eragon even though they're in the same school year. I'll explain that later on when it comes to the starting school chapter.  
-For those who might be thinking Eragon seemed to be hardly injured at all, well he wasn't really. The car didn't crumple or anything: he just got rattled around a bit. So it's not that surprising I'd say that he was already being sarcastic, etc.  
-Guildford is in the county of Surrey which is the richest county in the UK. Seriously, it's full of rich folk. And the whole Ferrari thing wasn't much of an exaggeration.  
-AS Levels are taken from 16-17 and GCSEs from 14-16 at secondary school.**

**-A 'chav' is… well it's hard to explain. Basically they're teenagers here who wear baseball caps, hoodies, trousers which literally hang off their waist halfway down their legs and speak slang to point of incomprehension. Nobody likes them which is why Eragon and Murtagh were mocking them.  
-Bruce Lee is a don. He is literally a fighting god. :D**

**Car notes (from all chapters and I'd strongly advise looking at pictures for a better idea of looks):-  
-Maserati GranTurismo MC: 2007-now, 444bhp, 4.7L V8, 2-door, 185mph top speed, 6-speed transmission, 0-60mph 4.6s. Boasts cool looks and comfort, performance sports car. Powerful and decent handling.  
-Chevrolet Corvette C6: 2006-2013, 505bhp, 7.0L V8, 2-door, 198mph, 6-speed, 0-60mph 3.4s. Generally a muscle car with aerodynamic/'pointed' look or a super car. Can be known for 'wild' handling i.e. lack of it.  
-Lamborghini Aventador: 2011-now, 700bhp, 6.5L V12, 2-door, 217mph, 7-speed, 0-60mph 2.9s. High powered super car known for V12 roar and intense speed. Very desirable, aggressive, sleek looks.  
-Ferrari 458 Italia: 2009-now, 562bhp, 4.5L V8, 2-door, 202mph, 7-speed, 0-60mph 3.4s. Roguish sport car, very popular/successful. Well-rounded car in power and handling with beautiful looks.  
-Ford GT: 2005-2006, 550bhp, 5.4L supercharged V8, 2-door, 211mph, 6-speed, 0-60mph 3.6s (varies). Legendary sports car, draws origins from GT40 racing car. Powerful and muscular looks. Rare and prestigious too.  
-Aston Martin V12 Vanquish: 2001-2007, 460bhp, 6.0L V12, 2-door, 190mph, 6-speed, 0-60mph 5.0s. More of a stylish, luxurious super car but still sporty and fun to drive. Famous for James Bond appearances and elegant looks.  
-Porsche 991: 2011-now, 395bhp, 3.8L straight-6, 2-door, 185mph, 7-speed, 0-60mph 4.5s. Quick, agile sports car following classic looks/design of previous 911 models. Doesn't boast power but handles well and fun to drive.  
-Lamborghini Diablo: 1990-2001, 492bhp, 5.7L V12, 2-door, 2o2mph, 5-speed, 0-60mph 4.5s. Classic sports car, speed demon with throaty engine roar. Handling decent but very much a boy-racer car.  
-Ferrari 550 Maranello: 1996-2001, 485bhp, 5.5L V12, 2-door, 199mph, 6-speed, 0-60mph 4.4s. Another classic, not well renowned though. Well-designed sports car, more of a grand tourer.  
-Chevrolet Corvette C5: 1996-2004, 350bhp, 5.7L V8, 2-door, 175mph, 6-speed, 0-60mph 4.7s. Same as Z06, just older and less technologically advanced. Still barrels of fun and well loved.  
-Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R: 1999-2002, 280bhp (official but 330bhp is stated by owners), 2.6L straight-6, 2-door, 155mph (limited, likely 180mph or so), 6-speed, 0-60mph 4.9s. High-end, inexpensive sports car of its day, introducing advanced technologies of today. Extremely fun.  
-Porsche 993: 1993-1998, 282bhp, 3.6L straight-6, 2-door, 178mph, 4-speed, 0-60mph 5.2s (in the story it is beefed up by the way i.e. tuned). Variant of famous 911 model. Sporty and quirky, little speedster. Handling improved upon 911 and all round fun.  
-MOTORBIKE. Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R: 1995, 135bhp, 0.6L in-line-4 cylinder, 165mph (meant to put approximately 160mph not 190mph in earlier chapter), 6-speed, 0-60mph 3.5s. **


	6. Fancy Seeing You Here

**Next chapter be here. A 1000 apologies for the lateness. School decided to smother us in homework as soon as my exams finished 'cus they're all a bunch of wan- wally… tards. Yeah.**

**Once again, enjoy and please review! Also, check out 'Half-Breed' and 'The Hidden God' if you haven't. **

** Dill Dragon: Thanks for the review. Murtard seemed to fit at the time and irony? Why would you ever say that… ;) And I agree, yeah, jumping straight to romance from meeting is just unrealistic (who does that in real life?). Saphira will be making an appearance very soon and, well, she'll certainly be a friend but you'll have to wait and see. **

** 'ur fav reviewer': Thanks for the review. :) Appreciate the compliments (and yeah, there are hardly any AUs for IC). **

** 'I Love': Thanks for the review. :) Murtagh being emo here wouldn't fit. He had to be the teasing/fun-going dude. And yeah, that was one of the reasons why I chose to write this fic actually. **

**P.S. If I ever mention any new cars in future chapters, there will always be a note with some info on them at the end. Just for your interest. **

Chapter 6 - Fancy Seeing You Here

Eragon POV

Thud. Thud.

Oh God no. Not this again. First it's boxes and now what?

Groaning loudly, I roll onto my back with my eyes still closed. What time is it? I move my hand around randomly trying to find my alarm clock but instead end up smacking it. A thunderous boom follows a second later. Ah, crap.

The noise causes a sharp burst of pain in my head at the same time though; I guess I'm still sensitive from the accident. At least the cut has stopped itching now thankfully. It took all my will power last night not to claw the bandage off my face and relieve the tingling sensation.

I soon realise that the thudding noise is getting louder and it sounds as if it's approaching my room. I quickly dive under the blankets in the hope that whoever enters will think I'm still asleep.

Sadly, this doesn't go to plan. At all.

"Alright Eragon, rise and shine! No more dozing around. It's 11:40a.m. so I think you've had plenty of sleep. And why is your clock in pieces on the other side of the room?"

It's Uncle Brom who, after finishing his rousing speech, proceeds to literally rip the blankets off me and open my curtains fully. I grunt in response, turning onto my side and facing away from him.

"This boy…" he mutters. "Just be down soon." With that, he walks out and I hear his shoes rattle down the stairs.

Thank the Lord the heating was on, otherwise I might have just snap-frozen when he pulled the covers off me: it's still winter so it's roughly 5°C outside i.e. bloody cold.

Hang on. What did he mean 'why is my alarm clock in pieces'?

Brilliant, I must have smashed it to bits when I whacked it with my arm.

"Eragon! You had better be in the bathroom or I will drag you in there myself!" yells Brom from downstairs.

"I'm going!" I holler back while sitting up. Christ, it's supposed to be the weekend and here he is acting like I'm late for my first day of school.

On the topic of school, I'll be starting tomorrow come to think of it. Anxiety settles in the pit of my stomach at the thought. What will the people be like? How good are the teachers?

Endless questions roll on in my mind as I climb out of bed and head off to the bathroom.

* * *

Having quickly brushed, I hurry down to the kitchen and am promptly greeted by Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena.

"Morning Eragon, glad you could _finally_ join us." says Uncle Brom without even looking up from the newspaper he's reading.

"Morning sweetheart. Ignore your Uncle, he's always grumpy in the morning for some reason." As she says this, he mutters something under his breath. I think I caught the words 'grumpy my foot' and 'lazy sod'. Yeah, he's definitely grouchy in the morning.

"Good morning to you too Uncle and morning Auntie." I reply back, giving Aunt Selena a quick hug and sticking my tongue out at Uncle Brom.

"Honestly Eragon, you're such a child." she laughs and I swear Uncle Brom cracks a small smile as well. "So, cereal or toast?"

"Cereal please."

"Help yourself then. They're all in that cupboard and the bowls in the adjacent one." She then sits down next to Uncle Brom, sipping her tea while whispering something in his ear with a more serious look on her face.

I turn away from them and settle down in front of the TV with my breakfast, watching the headlines. It's the same old really: UK's potential triple dip recession, America's fiscal cliff, gun law reforms in America, the war on terror and the fighting in Mali.

Eventually the repetitive, mechanical motion of moving the spoon to my mouth and chewing causes my thoughts to wonder; specifically, to the people I met last night.

Saphira. She was a sarcastic one alright, yet she seemed like an easy-going person. Good-looking too. As soon as I breach the topic of attraction however, another person enters my mind almost instantaneously.

Arya. The fact that I don't know anything about her just makes her so damn mysterious and thought-consuming. Yet, at first glance, she was clearly a level-headed person and the 'sensible' one in that place. I'm not sure what to make of her… What I _am_ sure about though is wishing I could find out more about her background. How old is she? Is she a local? What does she do? Most importantly, why was she following me in the first place?

My mind then moves on to the last person. Murtagh. Now he was a right lad: friendly, funny and generally chilled. We immediately clicked and got on well. And he goes to Holland Park School meaning I'll be seeing him again soon. Boy will he be shell-shocked.

Suddenly the possibility that Saphira and Arya go there too pops up. It's plausible: Saphira's 18 and Arya looked the same age, so they could both be in A2. The thought itself is enough to raise my dull mood and the impending doom that I know is to come.

No way in hell have Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena conveniently decided to forget about last night. I'm in for it sooner or later.

"Eragon, when you've finished eating come to my study. We need to discuss what happened last night. Don't be long now." Guess it's going to be sooner than later.

I put my bowl in the sink and head towards the study. My palms feel moist and sweaty: I have no idea what to expect. For all I know, he could flip a shit or go with the guilt trip. I knock a couple of times hesitantly before entering, as timid as a mouse whose venturing into a lion's jaw.

"Ah, here you are. Sit down. Now, first of all, where did you go last night? Secondly, why do you have that bandage on the side of your face? Do not try and lie to me Eragon: if you went to the hospital, they would have immediately informed us." He's dead serious: he's leant forward with his elbows on the desk and his face is pretty much carved from stone at the moment.

Well, this is it: truth or untruth.

"I, err…" Uncle Brom's face surprisingly takes on a softer look as I stutter for an answer while swallowing hard.

"Eragon. The reason I was so enraged last night was because of your Aunt. Do you have any idea how upset she was? She considered calling the police only a minute before you arrived and I was inclined to agree. How were we supposed to know where you had gone off too? For all we knew, you could have been kidnapped or physically assaulted. Admittedly, I take responsibility for not confirming where exactly you were going and when you would be back. But you're almost an adult Eragon: you'll be 18 before you know it. You need to take responsibility for your actions now and consider how they affect others.

That's really what I want to get across to you: be sensible and mature. Couldn't you have phoned us at any point to say why you were still out or to tell us you'd been injured? Or asked whoever was taking care of you to do so for you, if you were that incapacitated? Just think next time, please Eragon; it's all I ask."

All the while he was talking, a lump was forming in my throat. My head eventually slumped downwards and my hands were clasped together tightly.

"I'm really sorry." That's it. That's all I can say in a hushed, anguished voice.

"Come here Eragon." Uncle Brom stands up as I go around the desk, into his embrace. I can't believe I had upset them both so much. God, I'm such an _idiot_.

"It's fine, we all make errors or some things just slip our mind. Trust me, I wasn't some angelic child either you know, appearances and all. Just learn from your mistakes Eragon and all will be well." I nod silently against his shoulder.

The hug feels nice. Like a young boy who's just angered his father but with a few words and an apology, all is forgiven and back to normal.

We pull back from each other and he pats me on the shoulder, with a small smile on his grizzled face.

"I'll forget about the whole incident but I would like to know what happened later on. Go see your Aunt first though Eragon."

I nod again before heading out to see Aunt Selena. She was still sitting on a stool in the kitchen, sipping away at her tea. Seeing me enter, she puts down her cup and comes and enfolds me in her arms like Uncle Brom did.

"I'm so sorry; I really didn't mean to worry you guys so much. Please don't be mad?" I say in a small voice.

"Eragon, I could never be angry at you for long." she says gently, brushing the back of my head with her hand. "Just please don't ever make me panic like that again. I'm sure your uncle has already given you the full lecture, so I'll spare you it again."

"Okay."

"Good, I'm glad you understand." As she says this, she reaches up and kisses my cheek. "Alright, go do something useful. Shouldn't you brush up on your maths, science or economics for tomorrow?"

"I guess I could…"

"Have a quick look at some topics and take the rest of the day off then. And Eragon?"

"Yes?" While walking away I turn back around at her call.

"If you ever feel stressed or burdened, you can always talk to me about anything. Believe me when I say it's good to share your thoughts with others, especially those close to you."

"Thanks Auntie. I'll do that." I smile back at her, somewhat lightened by the fact that I could confide in her without the worry of her exploding in fury.

I walk back to the study, deciding to tell Uncle Brom about yesterday's events and get it over with. I don't lie: I simply bend the truth, change certain parts slightly and leave out others altogether. I don't mention the crash at all however. Instead, I tell him that I accidentally hit a lamp post, which caused my head to fly forward and thump against the steering wheel. He seems to believe it which is a relief for me.

"I see. I hope you've learnt your lesson from this Eragon: don't go around accepting races from random strangers who, very likely, have dodgy cars."

"Yeah, I have. Definitely."

"Good. Did you win then?"

"Win what?"

"Your race I mean." I must have forgotten to mention that. Why would he be interested though?

"Oh right. Yeah, I did. I won." I look at him suspiciously as his eyes light up momentarily, before returning to their serious state.

"Well, I'm glad nothing more serious occurred. You should be too."

"I am, for sure."

"Okay, off you go then. I have some paperwork to sort out, so unless you want to help me…?" Before he can even finish his sentence, I'm already at the door to his study.

"No thanks, I'm good. See ya. Bye. Later." I bolt outside and sigh in relief, having escaped what would've probably been hours of manual labour. I go to my room and switch on my laptop to refresh my memory of any 'school stuff'.

* * *

The rest of the day passes pretty quickly with me reading up, working out in the gym for an hour (while blasting my iPod on speakers, irritating Uncle Brom endlessly as he's forced to listen to, I quote, "all that hippety-hoppety") and generally relaxing i.e. watching some TV or surfing the internet on my laptop.

At dinner, I decide to call Uncle Brom in on the 'story' behind the cars in the garage.

"Those cars I saw in the back yesterday… did you used to race them or something?" His expression becomes wistful as he slowly puts down his fork. There's a slight pause before he answers.

"Not those ones specifically, no. Nevertheless, I did used to race professionally."

"Seriously?"

"I'm very serious Eragon. I thought you'd have picked up on that by now." he states with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Very funny Uncle. What kind of racer were you then? F1?"

"Gods above, no. I started out in Touring Car racing when I was, let's see now… I believe I was 20. I used to drive for Ford in a Sierra RS Cosworth. It was a dream of a car and extremely popular, both on the road and the track."

"So you only did Touring Car racing then?"

"No, that was my first venture into racing. I drove for Ford for two years before getting into endurance racing. This was where I stayed for the rest of my racing career as a Le Mans participant."

"Le Mans?! Holy… Did you drive a prototype car then?"

"Not at first. I was lucky to get selected at all. I moved race teams however: I drove for Mclaren rather than Ford. The F1 was the car I raced and, again, it was a charm. One of my team members won in that car in 1995, beating all the fancy prototypes. I was one of the three drivers of the car for that very race."

"Hang on. Let me guess this straight: doing the maths roughly means you won a race in only... your second or third year of driving?!

"It was the second; I was 24 when we won and I loved every second of it. Eventually I moved onto a prototype car in 1998: it was the Toyota GT-One which debuted that year. Yet another dream machine and, by far, the favourite of my racing career. However, it was also the last car I ever professionally raced. After what happened in 1999…" He trails off with a faraway look in his eyes.

"What-"

"Another time Eragon. Look, we've spent all this time eating and talking and now it's already 7:00p.m."

"You two did go on for quite a bit. I never knew your Uncle could be such a chatterbox Eragon." jokes Aunt Selena.

"Chatterbox? Most certainly not." replies Uncle indignantly, his face taking on an expression of mock offense and astonishment.

"I'm afraid Aunt's right, Uncle. You really can flap that jaw of yours when you want to."

"You'll be flapping your arms and legs soon, trying to get away from me, if you're not careful."

"Empty threats, empty threats."

"We'll see about that…" He slowly begins to stand up as he says this but I run to the stairs, quickly saying goodnight to them both. Whew, escaped.

I hear Aunt Selena scold Uncle as I walk up the stairs; her voice is just brimming with undertones of laughter though. I'm still shaking with mirth myself from Uncle's face when Aunt called him a 'chatterbox'. That was priceless.

While slipping into bed, I begin to think about today's events: it had been a good day. Yesterday's events were a thing of the past and perhaps Uncle Brom isn't so bad after all. With these positive thoughts running through my mind, I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take me.

* * *

Monday morning comes all too quickly for my liking. The alarm in my phone goes off, waking me up with a jolt. This time I'm careful not to break it when reaching to turn it off: a clock was one thing but a phone would be a little expensive to replace.

"Eragon, get up. Come on. Be down in ten minutes. I'll be getting breakfast ready." I look at the time. It's 7:12a.m. Eugh. I _really_ don't feel like getting up but the potential wrath of Uncle changes my mind.

Taking a quick shower first, I brush and change into some casual clothes before thundering downstairs with my satchel.

"You're actually down on time?"

"Yes, actually. No need to be that surprised."

"Let's see if you can replicate this miracle again. I'm going to go off and fetch your bike, helmet and lock from the garage. See if you can be done in five minutes."

"Wait, why are you up so early?"

"It's called work Eragon. One day you'll-"

"Spare me, please." Uncle Brom chuckles before heading off.

I finish up and walk outside. I'm a bit eager to get to school just to see the priceless look on Murtagh's face. Smiling at the thought, I head over to the garage where my bike is propped up on its stand with a helmet, lock and key resting on the handlebars.

"Now, I'm assuming you're competent enough to figure out how to use the lock. Correct?"

"Your wit never ceases to amaze me. Not. I'll head off now then. See ya later Uncle."

"Bye Eragon. Cycle safely now. And-"

"Always wear your helmet. I know, I know. Sheesh."

"Just making sure. Enjoy your day."

"Yeah because school is barrels of fun. Oh wait, no it's not."

"Just go already, you're going to be late as it is. And don't get lost!"

"I have a sense of direction you know!" I yell back at him as I speed away up the road.

It's a fairly short trip: up the A315 and down Campden Hill Road. I can also avoid all the usual London congestion to my relief. It's packed out this morning with lines of cars running down the main road; I take back what I said to Uncle Garrow about hoping to drive. Cycling clearly looks much better.

When I arrive there are crowds of people either getting dropped off from cars, chatting with friends or heading inside already. As I roll in on my bike, I garner the attention of everyone I pass by.

Am I the only cyclist or something? I can't be since there's a whole load of bikes hooked up the parking spot.

Oh, right. I'm the new guy: they're probably wondering who the hell I am. The large cut on the side of my face isn't really helping either.

As I hop off my bike, the registration bell goes off. Crap. Gonna be late, gonna be late. Before I head inside though, I catch sight of a whole row of cars parked outside the school. Expensive cars at that too: a few Lamborghini's, Aston Martin's and a sapphire blue Audi R8. The Audi, which I think is a Spyder, seems to stand out for some reason, likely because it isn't the usual Italian supercar.

"Does nobody own a simple car in this district? Like a Peugeot 206 or a Ford Mondeo? It's as if they're banned or something." I say to myself in wonder.

I follow the directions to reception and find an elderly lady typing away. Typical.

"Erm, excuse me." I say, getting her attention.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"I just transferred here and I was wondering if I could have my timetable and any other necessary things."

"Ah, of course. Surname?"

"Trent."

"Eragon Trent? Birth date 12/09/1995?"

"Yup, that's me."

"Wonderful." She rummages through her desk for a minute before handing me a bunch of papers and my planner.

"There you go. Your timetable and homework diary, along with a map of the school and its layout. Now, your form room is M2. Think you can find it on your own or would you like me to take you there?"

"I'll find it myself. Thank you." Why does everyone seem to think I lack any sense of direction today?

"My pleasure. If you need anything else, or have any questions, feel free to ask your form tutor or come to reception."

I walk off while studying the school layout she gave me to find my form room. Apparently my form tutor is 'Ms Angela Medora'. Wonder what she'll be like.

Murtagh POV

The day started off pretty normally to be honest. I cycled to school as I always do (since my dad is so adamant about not taking my car, for some reason) and met up with the others, Gauldur, Harald, Tynan and Thorn, in registration.

Ms Medora still hasn't turned up. No surprise there: she's always running some strange errand. At least she's not some strict old woman I expected her to be when I first came here, a year ago. I still remember the first time I walked into her class…

_Shit, shit, shit. Where the bloody hell is lab CL3? I've seen a SL3, a BL3 but no god damn CL3. My chemistry teacher's gonna kill me at this rate. I'm already ten minutes late for the lesson. _

_Bingo! There it is. CL3. Finally found it, after wandering around like some lost soul in the science block. I walk in tentatively, hoping not to attract everyone's attention. _

_The exact opposite happens: everybody turns to face me and so does the teacher writing on the board. _

_"Pleased you could join us. Mr Rennox, I presume, since you're the only person who I didn't call out on the register."_

_"Um, yes miss. Sorry I'm-"_

_"Bah, do not bore me with some excuse. You might as well say a toad attacked you in the hallway."_

_"Err, okay then." Well that was pretty blunt. _

_I sit down at the back next to some of the others and introduce myself to them. Apparently this teacher, Ms Medora, is not one for messing about, they tell me. _

_"Alright, now, continuing our work on moles and masses, can anyone tell me what Avogadro's constant is and its exact value? Yes Aaron?"_

_"It's the number of molecules or particles in one mole of substance and it's roughly, um… 6.01 x 10^32. I think."_

_"Almost right. Actually- Well now. Since you insist on talking and are late to my lesson as it is, you can tell us the correct answer."_

_Wait, who's she talking to? I suddenly realise everyone's eyes have focused on me and that she's eyeing me too in an annoyed manner. _

_"Me?! Since when was I-"_

_"Don't answer back. Manners, Mr Rennox. Now answer the question." _

_"It's 6.02 x 10^23."_

_"Amazing. Maybe your head's not such a block after all, considering how long it took you to get here in the first place. Please refrain from disturbing me during the lesson again or I will be forced to detain you at lunchtime."_

_"Yes miss." I grumble in response. _

_The lesson goes on for a while before Ms Medora walks over to me after setting some work._

_"Mr Rennox, why exactly were you late again?"_

_"What? Oh, I got lost in the science block. Couldn't find the right lab."_

_"Hmm, I'll let you off the hook this time then since you're new like the rest. Be sure to study the school layout before next lesson though. One would think you'd have done so by now."_

_"Will do." The bell rings, signalling the end of the first period. _

_"Okay boys, no homework today. Enjoy your freedom but remember to fend off those pesky particles and avoid sulphurous biscuits!" _

_What a whacky teacher: posh and off her rockers. _

_"Yo, Gauldur." I say, getting the attention of a guy I just met. "Is she always this nuts?"_

_"Yeah, get used it. It ain't so bad; she grows on you after a while." _

And she did gradually. She's brimming with strange phrases and insults like 'blockius maximus' and 'mercurial balls of fire'. I can't help but grin every time she spurts out some random expression. It's just impossible not to laugh because, well, it's just _her_ saying it of all people.

"Hey Murt, looks like the new dude's arrived." says Thorn, interrupting my line of thought.

New kid? Right. Ms Medora mentioned on Friday that someone would be joining the school and our class. I find that a bit strange actually, joining at this time of year. As in, just after half-term? Who'd move schools then?

I turn to the door only to go slack-jawed. It's Eragon. The guy Arya saved on Saturday night. I fumble around for words before finally managing to get something out of my mouth.

"You- How- But- ...Eragon?! You're the new guy?!"

"You just love stating the obvious don't you Murtard. _Yes_, I am the new guy." he states, amused at my floundering state likely.

"Hold on, you know this person then?" asks Thorn, clearly confused at our interaction.

"Yeah I do. Had to drive his arse home after he had an accident or something." I pause suddenly, my mind still ticking over the fact it's Eragon.

How could I not have seen this coming? No wonder his face went all weird when I mentioned I go to this school. The sneaky bastard: he wanted to surprise me.

"Gee, thanks. You say that like it's totally my fault." Eragon says, pretending to be offended.

"Maybe it is, shit for brains. Doesn't even check his tyres before starting a race… classic amateur manoeuvre right there." I reply back.

"Woah, woah. Hold up. He had a race? As in a race-race?" Thorn's so puzzled right now.

"What the hell does 'race-race' mean? And yeah I had a street-race. What of it?" answers Eragon, not getting the underlying meaning of his words.

"Basically-" I'm cut off by Ms Medora bursting through the classroom door, huffing in a panicking way.

"Sorry I'm late boys and girls. Okay, there's no notices, no assembly and," she pauses as she scans the room for everyone's presence, "it seems like everyone is here. Perfect. And one moment class. Before you go, please introduce yourself to Mr Trent here. He's recently transferred and I'm sure you'll make him feel welcome on his first day."

As always, no explanation as to why she's late or what she was doing. Classic.

Before leaving, everyone quickly comes up to Eragon and greets him in a friendly manner. Of course there's the whole 'social system' in the school which I need to tell Eragon about. I whisper in his ear as each 'group or individual' meets and addresses him.

"Okay, first up: the popular chicks. Some of them are sluts, plain and simple. Most of them are just attention seeking bitches." He nods slightly at my words, still putting on a polite face. A chorus of 'hi' and 'hey there' come from this group of girls. He's certainly got their attention.

"Don't get too comfortable now. I wonder what Arya would think if she saw your right now? 'Oh, woe is me-' Oof! What the hell was that for?!" Eragon had elbowed me in the side as soon as I started the impression. Damn, he hit hard.

"For being a dick, that's why. Now clam it." he says, the corner of his mouth barely moving.

"That's gonna bruise."

"Man up you pussy. I bet Nasuada will love it anyway."

"You son of a... Alright, I give up."

He finishes meeting everyone after a minute or so, with me still whispering details, and we head off to our first lessons. On the way we explain to Thorn and the rest of the gang about how we know each other.

Saphira POV

"Biology. Tell me again why I took this subject?" I look to Arya as we walk to the science block.

"How about you tell me? You're pretty much complaining about it every second we're at school." she replies while rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"It's hardly my fault that it's full of bull, with a capital B."

"Why didn't you drop it last year then?"

"I couldn't, I got an A at AS in it. Mr Bryn wouldn't let me drop it, even after I begged him."

"You went to the headmaster? As in you were that desperate?"

"Yes I was that desperate. Never mind I guess. At least I have different teachers compared… to…" my voice leaves me as I spot a familiar person walking across the school grounds. Eragon.

"Saphira?" says Arya, regaining my attention.

"Huh, what?"

"What happened? Who did you see?"

"Just someone I met walking around town on Saturday. I had no idea he goes to this school. Come on, I'll introduce you to him."

As we approach Eragon and his group of friends, I see Arya's face turn into one of surprise for a second before settling into a slight smirk. Hold up just a second. Don't tell me…

"_You_ know who he is?! Why didn't you say anything? How did you-"

"Saph. Calm down. Let's just go over to him and say hi before going to our next lessons."

"…And then I hit- Saphira? Arya? You guys go here too?!" Eragon says, plainly astonished at our appearance.

"And you say I state the obvious. Hypocrite." retorts Murtagh. I'm not surprised him and Eragon are hanging around together: they're alike in almost every way. They might as well be blood related.

"Whatever. I've got to go lessons now, and I'm guessing you do too, so I'll catch you guys later after school then yeah?" asks Eragon hopefully.

"Definitely. I think we're all out of the loop here. What happened to your face though?"

"Car accident." he says over his shoulder as he walks away with the others.

"Car accident?" I turn to Arya again with a questioning look.

"Later Saphira. You'll find out everything I promise."

"Good. I better do; you know I like being up-to-date on gossip."

"Don't remind me. Sometimes it's impossible for you to be quiet when you get going."

"I love you too Arya."

"Coming out of the closet are we Saph?"

"Yes, yes I am. I am a lesbian. So sue me." I give her a flat stare before I break into laughter and Arya smiles, shaking her head at our humour. Gotta love the banter.

* * *

At the end of the day, I trudge wearily to the car park. School is just a brain-drainer. I see Arya coming out into the parking area too.

"Let me guess, you want a lift back?"

"If you can." she says politely.

"Sure."

We head over to where my blue Audi R8 GT Spyder is i.e. my pride and joy. Mum and Dad collectively bought me it for my 18th birthday and I just love it to bits.

We both freeze suddenly as I look at where my car is parked. Standing next to it are five guys: Forsworn members. They look up at us and grin maliciously, while eyeing my car.

This should be good.

**And end. Once again, apologies for lateness. Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and once again, spread the story and please review! **

**Notes:-  
-About Eragon calling Saphira 'good-looking'. Eragon = teenager, therefore makes sense. He's pretty casual about it anyway. Don't worry about it.  
-The 'social system' in UK schools is basically the same as US schools, etc i.e. nerds, chicks, populars, sports people, etc. And, just in my view (from hearing my American cousins' opinions and reading some fanfictions set in American schools), it's way more toned down. As in, really, it's just 'clever people who like to study' and 'less clever people, who are still intelligent, but just like to party/do sports more'. I'll admit films may have biased my view from seeing the classic 'jocks bullying nerds and slamming them into lockers' but that's what it seems like in comparison.  
-I picked on Biology since practically everyone who took it in my year moans about it. It started off good then went down the drain. So glad I didn't take it.  
-Angela had to be a teacher. Just one of those weird, sporadic ones. I have a few in my school and they really are funny with the random stuff they do/say.  
-24 hours of Le Mans, for those who don't know, is the oldest endurance race in the world. It lasts 24 hours (surprise) and is near the French town of, wait for it… Le Mans. Basically, various manufacturer teams have to balance fuel, tyres, brakes, etc for the whole 24 hour race while rotating drivers. 3 drivers normally drive each car. There are various classes as well of cars and races. Read up more on the internet for a fuller description.  
-Touring car racing is basically racing between heavily modified road cars you'd see every day. It's pretty intense as 'contact' is very much allowed making it usually exciting to watch. **

**Car notes:-  
-Ford Sierra RS Cosworth: 204bhp, 2.0L straight four engine, 143mph top speed, 0-60mph 6.2 seconds, 2 door four seater, 1985-1992, 5-speed transmission. Legendary car among boy racers and professionals. Blitzed competition when first produced.  
-Mclaren F1: 1992-1998, 618bhp, 6.1L V12, 6-speed transmission, 0-60mph 3.2s, 240mph top speed, 2 door. Fastest car in the world before Bugatti Veyron and a joy to drive. It has a middle driver seat. Enough said.  
-Toyota GT-One: 1998-1999, Le Mans Prototype car, 3.6L V8 twin-turbo, 600bhp, 6-speed transmission, 0-60mph 3.6s, 249mph top speed. Only appeared twice in Le Mans but made a big impact coming 2****nd**** in both years it raced.  
-Audi R8 GT Spyder: 5.2L V10, 6-speed transmission, 552bhp, 197mph top speed, 0-60mph 3.8s, 2-door, 2006-present. A solid supercar: fast and handles well. Aerodynamics is good and the ride is smooth. A serious car (made by Germans, so can't be that fun…). **


	7. The System

**New chapter finally. Sorry it's very late again. The past week's been manic: visiting universities, doing a massive essay, visiting relatives, friends' birthday parties, etc. Once again, a 1000 apologies, enjoy the chapter and review!**

** Dill Dragon: Thanks for the review :) Ha, calm down. Yeah, Angela is the chemistry teacher. And I guess that's just Saphira for you, it's sort of what I'm going for. But you've only seen one side of her… Cliffies are just a must sometimes I'm afraid. ;)  
2JZ-GTE: Thanks for the review :) Well, it's generally a solid car and coming from the Germans at that? It's something to hype about since it's almost a bit of fun as well. Not as far as Italian supercars of course though. Power/speed isn't everything though; you have to keep that in mind. Import cars, well, maybe, maybe not. We'll see. And I can't answer that since I just cannot decide… probably a Lamborghini of some sort.  
Nandon: UK school can be cool I guess. It's still school though. Thanks for review :)  
I Love: Thanks for the review :) Glad you like the dialogue and characters, I was hoping it wouldn't be too filler-ish/dull.  
'Guest': Thanks for the review :) Ah, what exactly confused you then? I thought I put all the stuff in the notes. Tell me in the next review what's hard to get and I'll try and explain it. And yeah, can't just rush straight in to the romance… ;)  
'V': Thanks for the review :)**

Chapter 7 - The System

Saphira POV

"Step away from the car boys if you plan on having children. On second thoughts, don't bother. Who would go for you mugs?" I smile menacingly as I say this, while walking towards the guys near my car with Arya.

As William Congreve once said, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' And scorned I will be if they even lay a scratch on my car.

"Calm yourself m'dear. Can we gentlemen not admire a vehicle of such beauty?" says one of them mockingly. So he thinks he's clever, eh?

I turn to face the one who spoke, my hardened expression faltering slightly as I take in his appearance. He has deathly pale skin and seems to be all rag and bones i.e. pretty skinny, yet I can tell he's the one in 'charge' from the way the others crowd around him. The guy's lips had formed a sneer and his eyes appear to be a dark red-maroon sort of colour. His hair, being shoulder length and black with red highlights, completes the 'daunting' aura surrounding him. I'll admit he looks a tad frightening.

"Let me see. How about… No. I suggest you piss off before things take a turn for the worse." I reply back. It only makes him smirk more deeply and shake his head, while chuckling to himself in amusement.

"I don't think so. You see, things have already turned out for the worse. Well for you anyway." As he says this, he steps forward and begins to stroke the hood of my car with his finger, tracing out random patterns.

I almost leap forward like some savage if it isn't for Arya gripping my arm and pulling me back, mouthing 'No' at me.

"What I mean is that here's your car, just sitting in the car park where there are _no_ visible cameras coincidentally. And, look! I happen to have hammer I _borrowed_ from the tech block today. Now, let's put the two together shall we: hammer plus car equals…" He trails off purposefully, grinning darkly while twirling said hammer around.

I almost growl in anger. That clever little bastard: if he does wreck my car, I'll have no evidence to say it was him. Fingerprints are out of the question as that douche is wearing gloves and he can easily make up some story to get out of questioning. I feel my hands clench into fists at my side in frustration and anger.

Just. Fucking. Great.

Arya POV

I really don't need this at the end of a Monday.

Honestly, what is this guy's problem? It's as if Forsworn members have nothing better to do with their lives than bother other people, especially us other racing groups.

More importantly, what to do about this situation? If he demolishes Saphira's car, it will not end well. Not only will this red-haired clown have his face smashed in, along with several bones being shattered, but the cost of the damage will be enormous or, worse still, completely irreparable. Saphira will also be devastated: the fact that her parents bought the car for her makes it all the more special to her.

I would, for once, fight my way out of this situation but the odds are seriously stacked against us: five versus two isn't very favourable at all. By the time we take two out of the fight, the other three will have restrained us for sure. That option's definitely out the window.

I wrack my brain for some solution but the man begins to raise his hammer slowly, taunting us into doing something rash. I look around quickly, hoping to find something or see someone that can help us. And I do.

I spot Eragon and Murtagh coming out of the building roughly 30 metres away and they're heading this way. It appears luck is with me too as I manage to catch Eragon's eye just as he looks up ahead. He quickly registers what's going on and nods to me while telling Murtagh what's happening too. They both then crouch down and head towards us rapidly, weaving through the parked cars to be as stealthy as possible.

Perfect. Now I just need to stall for time.

"I strongly advise against doing that." I say in an off-hand manner, hoping to put him off.

"And why is that?" He replies back, the grin on his face fading but with that hammer still raised in the air. Saphira whips her head at me with a questioning look on her face.

"Several reasons in fact. One, there may not be visible cameras around but there could be some _hidden_ ones, if you're smart enough to catch my meaning. Two-"

"'Hidden' cameras you say? Of course there are." He drawls out the last sentence purposefully, his voice laden with sarcasm.

"It's you're call but do you really want to take that risk? And, as I was saying, reason number two is that my friend and I will personally grind you to dust if you so much as even touch the car again." He raises his eyebrow at the last phrase.

"Grind, huh? I'm sure I wouldn't mind that too much, if _you're_ smart enough to catch my meaning." That was a poor choice of wording on my part; Saphira and I still give him disgusting looks for that comment.

Some movement among the cars behind the man catches my attention. Good: that must be Eragon and Murtagh; only a few seconds more now. It seems like Saphira's seen them too, judging by the smirk that's slid onto her face all of a sudden.

"You wouldn't mind but I'm pretty sure they would." she says, gesturing behind the man with her head.

He quickly spins around only to have his hammer ripped away while one fist slams into his gut and another into his face. He staggers backwards and crumples to the floor just in front of mine and Saphira's feet, clutching his face in clear agony.

"Hey, demon boys, I think you're lost. Maybe you missed the seven gates of 'Satan's bitches.'" snarls Eragon, positioned in a fighting stance along with Murtagh.

"You wouldn't want to keep your 'master' waiting now would you?" sneers Murtagh, adding to the insult.

After a moment of temporary shock and rage, two of the 'henchmen' go for Murtagh and Eragon and the other two advance on Saphira and I. One swings a fist at me, aiming for my face, which I reflexively grab before punching his gut causing him to double over. A sharp knee to his face drops him to the ground next to his glorious leader.

I look to Saphira to see her avoid a flurry of wild punches before stepping on the man's foot, making him falter, and hitting him in the face with a quick left jab followed by a powerful side kick to his chest. He also wobbles backwards before completely collapsing, going into a foetal position. I don't even know why I was worried.

Saphira and I were both taught some basic mixed-martial-arts last year for 6 months, during the summer holidays and the beginning of Year 12. We used to learn from a coach for a local club, an experienced one at that, for 2 hours a week on Saturdays and Sundays. It definitely paid off against creeps who liked getting a little 'too close' or simply in random fights like this.

I turn to Eragon and Murtagh to see them fist-bump while standing over the other two guys, who are whimpering and clutching their assortment of injuries. No need to worry about those two either I guess.

"The mighty Thor is victorious once more!" yells Murtagh, brandishing the hammer above his head.

"And I'm Superman." says Eragon, rolling his eyes at his action.

"You're just jealous."

"Clearly. I'm just seething inside in fact." He then turns towards Saphira and I with a look of anxiety. "You guys okay?"

"We're fine, don't worry." I reply back, giving him a quick nod. His face relaxes for a moment before tensing up again and looking at the crumpled form of the red haired leader.

"Murtagh. This guy looks familiar. He's in our year right?" he asks with some suspicion.

"Yeah, he is. His name's Durza Shanks. He's pretty high up in the chain of command of the Forsworn too. My bet is that he must've been out looking for any marked cars, like Saphira's, to trash."

"My thoughts exactly." I reply, eyeing the fallen 'leader' warily.

"Wait, hold up a second. Forsworn? Marked cars? Anyone want to fill me in here?" interrupts Eragon, obviously perplexed as to what we're talking about.

"Essentially-" begins Saphira before she's cut off by Murtagh.

"It's fine Saphira. I'll call Eragon tonight and tell him all about the whole system we got going down here. You've already had a run in with these lads before though Ery."

"Who- wait, the guy I raced with the Porsche GT3 was one of them?"

"Yeah, that's Jyrik for sure. He's pretty low down in the Forsworn ranks and always uses that Porsche of his to pit himself against, what he thinks is, easy meat. Clearly he was mistaken with you." He grins at Eragon before turning to me with a stern face. "Arya, you okay with me telling Eragon about everything?" I catch the emphasis he puts on the last word and nod slightly in response, before heading over to Saphira's car.

He deserves to know since this _is_ his second run-in with the Forsworn. It'll be beneficial to him if he has an understanding of the whole situation. I'm surprised that I'd never heard of this Forsworn member before though, considering he's high up in their hierarchy.

"Is it alright for us to just… leave these guys here then?" questions Eragon, gesturing at the still moaning Forsworn members.

"It'll be fine, trust me. They'll pick themselves up, along with their broken pride, and head off soon enough." I answer back. "Hey Saph, let's go. And thanks for the help guys; hopefully this Durza prick and his goons will know to stay away now."

I turn to face them each again with a small smile and a quick nod of my head once more. When I lock on to Eragon's face however, my eyes linger longer than necessary.

His eyes are a swirl of emotion once again: there's a glint of pleasure at the forefront of them, giving them a lighter look overall; that darker emotion I saw before is still lurking below, which I can't seem to put a finger on. Is it rage perhaps? Grief? But who or what would he be angry, or sad, at…

Eragon breaks eye contact suddenly, a slight colour in his cheeks.

"It's no problem." he mutters half-heartedly while staring at the ground, before giving me a quick glance and heading off to the bike shed.

"Once again, my timing was most impeccable. Thank me not, for-"

"_Murtard_, can you never say anything that's not retarded? Oh wait, it's in your nature and your name to do so. My bad." says Saphira with a smirk, signalling him to go too with a wave of her hand.

"Ungrateful bitch." he mutters as well but still grinning nonetheless. "See you guys tomorrow then."

Saphira then turns to me and says one word.

"Spill."

"What?"

Saphira POV

"Don't try and toy with me Arya. I saw you practically rape his face with your eyes. Is there something you're not telling me?" There's something up between her and Eragon. I mean, Eragon blushed for God's sake before going all quiet and Arya couldn't stop staring at him.

Arya. Staring at another guy. That _never_ happens. It's almost blasphemy to put her name and that phrase near each other, let alone together.

"Saph. Just get in the car and drive. Clearly your hyperactive mind is on overdrive as always."

"Says you lamebrain."

"Great comeback right there; I am undoubtedly defeated." she says, with a slight roll of her eyes but her face still set in 'serious mode' as always. "Now come on, hurry up. I don't want to give my Mum some excuse to yell at me or you come to think of it."

"Oh god, you're right. I really don't want to have to face the wrath of Mrs Elenwen again thanks." I shudder at the prospect. The one time I dropped Arya off late several months ago led to something absolutely terrifying.

"Thinking about the time she lectured you for half an hour on the 'importance of punctuality'?"

"Don't remind me, please. That piercing stare of hers has officially scarred me mentally; I dread to think that there's an hour long version." I turn onto Iverna Crescent and stop in front of Arya's house. "Your destination madam. That'll be £3.65."

"You wish." she remarks, amused at my joke. "See you tomorrow."

"You too." As I do a U-turn and head back home, I begin to think about that moment between Arya and Eragon again.

There's _something_ going on and I'll be a fire-breathing, blue-scaled dragon if I don't get to the bottom of it.

Eragon POV

My mind wanders back to the fight as I unlock my bike and helmet - it certainly got the old blood pumping. The events after are more of a concern though: Arya's penetrating stare unnerved me to say the least, throwing me completely for a loop. Rational thought all but left me once again, my brain shutting down temporarily.

I had to break away before I did something reckless on impulse. Those smouldering eyes of hers were drawing me in, drowning me in deep pools of swirling emerald green. I needed to get out of there and quickly. So I did.

Sighing in frustration, I wheel my bike to the school entrance while tying my helmet on. Just as I'm about to head out though, I hear a voice calling me.

"Yo, Eragon! Hold up for a sec." Murtagh cycles up to me on his bike with a pensive expression. "I was just thinking about the whole 'explaining what the hell's going on' thing and realised it'd be better if I showed you first hand. There's an event on tonight which is convenient for us. If you can, come to Cromwell Road at about 7:00 in the evening and go towards the area behind the arcade. And you'll know what to look for, before you ask." With a wink, he bolts out and heads left while I mount up and sprint to the right.

Cars, Forsworn, the 'system': I think I may know how they're all connected. I cycle back home with my mind rolling out questions and trying to piece bits of information together.

* * *

As soon as I got home, I rolled my bike into the garage and headed inside quickly, hoping to avoid all the usual questions like 'How was the first day?', 'Did you make any new friends?' and so on. I mean, seriously? Do I look like I'm 6 years old or something?

Unfortunately, much to my dismay, I ran straight into Uncle Brom in the hallway as I 'stealthily' headed for the stairs. Then Aunt Selena proceeded to join us on wandering what the hullabaloo was about. So much for being quiet.

And here I am, currently being interrogated by the flipping 'British Inquisition' about pointless things.

"Earth to Eragon?" says Uncle Brom, trying to regain my attention.

"Hmm? What? Sorry, I sort of zoned out there for a minute."

"Evidently. I was just asking what that red stain on your hoodie is."

What red stain? Oh. Well shit. One of those Forsworn guys must have bled on me when we were fighting. I did not see that at all; I can just imagine Murtagh saying 'Too busy staring at Arya were we?' or some other similarly ridiculous comment in response to that. I chuckle mentally at the thought before realising I need to cover this up. Somehow I don't think they want to hear about a fight on the first day at my new school.

"Oh, _that_ red stain. Ketchup."

"…Ketchup? Care to elaborate somewhat?"

"What else is there to say? It's a ketchup stain. You know, the stuff that's made from-"

"I know what ketchup is Eragon. Stop dancing around the subject and just tell us what happened. Please tell me you didn't get into a food fight?"

"I wish." He raises an eyebrow at this and folds his arms across his chest, while tapping his foot on the floor. "Of course I didn't. My friend, Murtagh, decided to chuck one of those small ketchup tubs at me while I wasn't looking. I turned around luckily just in time and tried to dodge it but it ended up hitting me anyway."

"You're lucky ketchup comes out in the washing machine dear. Hand it over and I'll put it in for you." says Aunt Selena, taking the hoodie from me, smiling at my antics.

"Thanks Auntie. I'm gonna go do some homework now, get it out the way. But I was wondering if I could go out at 7:00 tonight? I promise to call you guys if I'll be back late."

"Alright Eragon. Where are you going and with who?" questions Brom, a grave look now engraved on his face.

"Murtagh, my friend from school and we're just going up to the arcade to hang out with some other school friends."

"Okay, that's fine. Be back by no later than 11:00pm alright? You have school so you don't want to be a deadbeat tomorrow morning."

"Thanks guys and I swear I won't come back with bandages either this time."

"It's no problem sweetheart and please be sure you don't. Just be responsible like your Uncle said and you can do what you like. Now, off with you or you'll never get any homework done at this rate. I'll call you down for dinner at 6:30." replies Aunt Selena

I nod quickly and fly upstairs, relieved that my excuse about the stain worked and that I could go out tonight and finally find out what the 'system' is all about.

I head inside my room and shut the door while unpacking my bad. Sitting down at my desk, I begin to slog through some calculus problems with my iPod speakers on in the background.

* * *

After practically inhaling my food at dinner, I dump my plate in the sink before grabbing my jacket, changing my shoes and bolt outside shouting 'Bye!' as I close the door.

I pull my jacket on tighter and zip it up as the cold night air hits me. I'm on foot since the arcade is only a 5 minute walk away down Victoria Road, Launceston Place and onto Cromwell Road. As I walk down the street, I call Murtagh to see if he's there already.

_"'Sup Eragon. You coming or not then?"_

"I'm on my way man, calm down. I'm just heading down Launceston Place now. I'll see you in a few minutes. I'm guessing you're already there by the background noise?"

_"Yeah, it's just getting started. I'll meet you in five then. Later."_

"Cool. Bye." I hang up and pick up the pace, jogging lightly now.

As I approach the arcade, the sound of roaring engines begins to fill my ears. This looks promising.

Up ahead, I see row upon row of supercars: Audi R8's, Lamborghini Gallardo's, Ferrari 599's, Corvette's, Mercedes-Benz SLS's, Pagani Zonda's. The list is endless; I'd never seen so many expensive cars in the same place before. All of them also had a variety of mods such as large gauge exhausts, body kits, spoilers, LED lighting (on the underside of the body) and even some blower supercharger setups on some of the muscle cars present. There's also a huge throng of people milling around, chatting and showing off their cars.

I practically drool over every single car as I walk past them, drinking in their visuals and pretty much ignoring all the people. This is absolutely mind-blowing: paradise is lying before me.

What really come as a surprise though is that all of the cars have those logos I saw a few days ago painted on them: the warhammers, bow and arrows, armoured knight or a horned skull. Wait, Murtagh mentioned 'marked cars' earlier today. Is this what he meant? Even the jackets people are wearing have these identical logos stitched on them.

"You made it then, eh? Sweet." says a voice from behind me, causing me to jump and spin around in shock. It's Murtagh, the sly bastard sneaking up on me.

"One day I'm going to end up socking you in the face if you do that again you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Come on, I'll show you around and introduce you to some people."

"Oh wow, I feel so special. Am I, like, a VIP?" I ask in a preppy, teenage voice.

"You so are! Like, oh my _gawd!_" replies Murtagh in the same voice. We both laugh at that as he leads me towards a small crowd of people a few feet away.

Murtagh POV

"Yo guys, this is Eragon. The dude I was telling you about." I say to my friends as we approach them.

They all turn to face us, immediately giving Eragon the standard 'one over'. Gauldur, Harald and Tynan greet him first, fist bumping and giving him the classic 'ghetto' handshake.

"So you're this mysterious driver I've been told about. Not too shaken up after the accident I hope?" Nasuada speaks up after the others, offering a hand too which Eragon shakes politely this time instead. What a ladies man.

"I'm all good now, thanks; it wasn't too bad a crash anyway thankfully."

"Lucky you then. Murtagh's been telling me all about your race. What Jyrik did was low: calling the cops because he lost is pathetic."

"Yeah, I've half a mind to find that douche and beat the crap out of him. You wouldn't happen to know where he is now, would you?"

"Sadly no. If I do find out, I'll be sure to tell you first. Murtagh can go lend a hand too; I'm pretty sure he'll be much obliged."

"Damn straight I will be." I crack my knuckles as I say this, grinning darkly.

"Much appreciated. You can have what's left of him Murty after I'm done. Might not be much though, I'll warn you now." replies Eragon, a wicked look entering his eyes.

"Save some for me boys. I think I have a score to settle with him too." adds Thorn too. He throws a few quick punches in the air for effect. In real life he's a damn good boxer having trained for 3 years and competed, and won, some local middle-weight tournaments. Jyrik's life span has definitely shortened in the past few seconds.

"At this rate, there'll be nothing left of him. How about we say first come, first serve?" I offer, chuckling along with the others.

"Alright, I'll take that." says Eragon before giving Nasuada a peculiar look. "Okay, random question but I'm sure I've seen you at school before. You're in year 12 right?"

"Exactly right. I think I saw you around a few times today actually. What do you take?"

"Both maths's, physics, chemistry, econ. You?"

"Maths, chem, bio and history. I might be in one of your classes. Anyway-"

"Oh great. Look out guys, here comes stuck-up twat one, two and three." interrupts Gauldur, looking over my shoulder.

I turn my head to find Vanir, Ralyn and Relyn striding over, looking smug and haughty as they do. Bloody brilliant. Vanir's the son of the CEO of Sundavar Group, a massive insurance company for houses, possessions, cars and so on. You name it, they cover it. Most people just know him as the dude 'with a stick up his arse' though; it suits the prick perfectly.

Ralyn and Relyn are known as the 'Twins'. They're blood related, cousins or something, but they're always seen to be acting identically and hanging around each other, earning them their nickname.

What I find ironic is that Vanir's in the Wardens and practically loathes everyone else, yet the 'Twins' are in the Forsworn and he's all chummy with them. Such a hypocrite.

"Well, I really didn't expect to see you here Murtagh with _your_ current street record. What's that now… 4 consecutive third or fourth places and no wins this period? No matter. Who knows? You might be lucky and come second for once in your race today. I'll be in first of course, as you know." I simply put on an uninterested look along with everyone else, except Eragon who quirks an eyebrow, as if saying 'This guy for real?'

"What was that? Sorry, bullshit just goes in one ear and out the other, _as you know_."

"How quaint. Who's your new friend then? Some newb racer the Paladins have recruited, in a desperate attempt to save their reputation?" I see Eragon visibly bristle in reaction but he stays where he is, making no attempt to launch himself at Vanir for that comment. Sensible man. He opens his mouth to respond but, before he can, he's cut off by a new voice.

"Vanir! Are you seriously gloating before the race _again_?" It's Wylandriah, head of the Wardens along with Arya, Raven, Rumare and Nirya. They all face Vanir with varying looks essentially meaning 'What the fuck are you doing?'

"I-"

"Save it. I honestly don't want to listen to your lies. This is your last warning: if I catch you again, you're suspended for 10 races and someone else will be driving your LFA. Capiche?" His face contorts in outrage but Ralyn unexpectedly whispers something in his ear. Vanir's expression evens out once more but turns into a sly one. He spins to face Eragon quickly.

"You, me. Tonight's event. You game?"

…What?! Where did that question come from?

I turn to Eragon to see him staring right back at Vanir with a sinister glare. He's dead quiet for a few seconds, as if contemplating something deep. I bet it's about that last race he had: he must be thinking about the crash. Suddenly he speaks.

"Game on."

Arya POV (a few seconds earlier)

Vanir is about to get his scrawny little hide kicked. I was talking with Raven, Rum, Nirya and Saphira when Wylandriah comes over to me and points out a crowd of people fifteen or so metres away.

I squinted towards them and lo and behold, Vanir was among them with his lackeys the 'Twins'. Saphira decides to go talk to someone else saying "I'll leave him all for you guys", while the rest of us walk over to him. As we do, I spot Murtagh, Nasuada, Thorn, some other Paladin members and, much to my astonishment, Eragon. I keep quiet though and let Wylandriah have her way with Vanir first.

When Vanir turns to Eragon and challenges him, I almost slap him in the face for being so utterly ridiculous. One of the Twins had whispered something in his ear, which must have initiated this idiocy. They practically control Vanir and he's clueless, even after he's been warned numerous times by others, myself included.

I look at Eragon after Vanir lays the gauntlet. He's silent for a few moments but his expression is hardened and menacing. Once again I end up finding myself drawn to his eyes: this time there's nothing but malice and hatred in them, covering up the even darker emotions I know that lie beneath them.

"Game on." Vanir smirks at his answer, as if knowing he couldn't resist, before stalking off with the Twins.

"What on earth was that about Eragon?!" I quite literally explode in fury at him, irate at his rash acceptance of the challenge. "Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?" Only three days ago was he involved in an accident, yet here he is diving recklessly into another race.

"I do in fact, _Arya_. Please, don't try and _lecture_ me when you know _nothing_ about me." He spits, his face still set in that unforgiving manner. My eyes narrow at his harsh reply, wondering what he meant by that last phrase. What exactly should I know about him, relating to this challenge? "Murtagh, you have a spare car right?" This time his voice is softer but with hard undertones.

"I was just about to offer one up in fact. Nasda, we brought along that yellow 430 Scuderia right?" replies Murtagh, his tone serious too.

Nasuada hesitates slightly, glancing at Eragon briefly, before becoming more assured and answering.

"We did. It'll be a good match for Vanir's LFA. You should get ready too; we're starting in five minutes."

"I'm up tonight then? Alright, time to let my Murcielago loose. Follow me Eragon; you're chariot of speed awaits." They both walk off towards the Paladin's section. My eyes trail after them for a few moments before whirling on Nasuada.

"Are you absolutely sure about this Nasuada?" I ask, my mind wary of a repeat of what happened 3 days ago.

"I've heard what he can do Arya but I'd like to see it for myself. He might just be the new driver I've been searching for."

Before the race starts, I head over to the viewing area which is an open tent (like the reception tents at weddings held outside) covering all the various electronic equipment.

Each car racing has two cameras fitted inside them: one fixed to the front windscreen and another to the rear window. The pairs of cameras wirelessly feed their transmission to individual laptops which are each connected to separate large screen displays, normally being 40" televisions, for easier viewing. The whole point is that everyone not racing can still spectate and, as an added bonus, the footage can be used afterwards as a means of identifying potential room for improvement.

Each car is also fitted with a sat-nav with pre-programmed directions in them, unknown to the drivers. The 'circuit' or 'track' is always located in a 20 mile radius from the agreed meeting point for a race and essentially made up of randomly selected streets and main roads. This keeps the races fresh and the driver's on their toes each time.

"Come to watch the rookie have we?" says Orik, coming up beside me and looking at the screens.

"I have. Who's racing for Smithies and Forsworn then?"

"We've put Idolaf on in his 4th Gen. Viper SRT-10 and someone called Baral is on for the Forsworn in a Zonda S7.3. Tonight's gonna be a real speed show but a close call."

"Agreed. All of these cars have similiar power, top speeds and 0-60 times. Still, some of them don't handle as well as the others."

"Pah, handling. It's all about power! Speed is the essence here. It always is and always will be."

"Right. Keep telling yourself that Orik." He mutters something in response before going over to one of his teammates elsewhere in the tent.

"Those Smithies never learn, do they?" says Raven, walking over.

"They never will, in my opinion." I reply, still watching the displays.

"My sentiments exactly. So what was that about earlier on then? You kind of blew a gasket there at that Eragon bloke and, although we all know what you're temper's like, it…" I raise my eyebrow at him at this point and he falters slightly. "Um, it seemed very unlike you. Very, very unlike you in fact. You only get that pissed when it's something especially serious."

"I'm not sure myself actually; I think school just took a lot out of me today so I was already a bit irritated. Vanir really didn't help to be honest." I fend off his question, not willing to reveal why I vented my anger as I know what kind of reaction it will elicit from people like him particularly. Dear Lord, if he knew I was worried about Eragon's safety… I just would not hear the end of it. "Look, the race is about to begin."

Five engines abruptly come to life, rumbling and thundering as the drivers rev their engines 20 metres or so away. I watch the cars line up adjacently at the start of Gloucester Road as the three starters raise their red, amber and green flags simultaneously.

Each of the cars jump forward slightly, anticipating the drop of the green flag.

The red one falls.

The amber one follows two seconds later.

The green drops around 3 second afterwards and the squealing of tyres, along with the sound of roaring exhausts, deafens everybody momentarily as the cars leap forward.

I instantly focus on the screen showing the feed from Eragon's Scuderia, seeing whether or not he gains the lead. He's tied second with Vanir as the first corner approaches to Courtfield Road, neither one giving each other any leeway.

As I stare at the screen, I begin to reflect back on the race 3 days ago. That time it was only a Nissan Skyline but here we're talking about a Ferrari: something with two to three times the power and a much greater top speed. If there's a wreck, then God knows what could happen.

'Stay sharp Eragon', I think to myself. 'Vanir's up to something. Something incredibly nasty."

**That… is a wrap. Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger but next chapter is the race which will be even better/more detailed/exciting/whatever you want to say than the last one. As always, please review, follow, favourite and all that nice shizzle. **

**Notes:-  
-Cameras do have some peripheral vision, so Arya could see to the side of the cars a bit rather than simply straight ahead or behind.  
-I made up the whole viewing system idea but based a few bits on past Fast & Furious films. There needed to be some way for people to see the races. The tent is pretty massive I'd say.  
-About the fight, anyone can fight decently if they know how to move on their feet well and punch with correct technique. So Murtagh and Eragon would have no sweat and these Forsworn dudes are very sloppy, especially since they were angry.  
-The ghetto handshake is basically the handshake many black people do, especially in America. You know, the whole grasping the thumb sort of area instead of a proper handshake.  
-Eragon's anger at Arya's question will be explained next chapter or the one after, depends on how I write it. It's to do with a past memory of his.  
-Arya's angry since the obvious fear she has is that he's gonna crash or that other drivers will pick on him (ramming, nudging, etc) being the rookie here. She doesn't know much about him remember, so she has no idea how well he can drive. But, she is right to be concerned about the fact Eragon is now driving a supercar, not a sports car. Bear that in mind for sure…  
-We will be seeing Durza in the future.  
-There will be a decent chunk of ExA next chapter or the one after, likely in the next one though I believe. **

**Cars:-  
-Lamborghini Murcielago LP640: 631bhp, 6.5L V12, 205mph top speed, 0-60 3.4secs, 2-door, 6-speed transmission, 2006-2009. Simply the car to have if you had the money at that time. A classic Lambo with all the flair and excitement you'd ever need from a car. Definitely on my top 10 favourites.  
-4****th**** Gen. Viper SRT-10: 600bhp, 8.4L V10, 202mph, 0-60 3.4secs, 2-door, 6-speed, 2008-2010. Pure muscle car with sleek looks. One of the largest capacity engines produced and one of the fastest production cars in the USA. Handling is an issue, as for all muscle cars though.  
-Ferrari F430 Scuderia: 508bhp, 4.3L V8, 198mph, 0-60 3.5secs, 2-door, 6-speed, 2007-2009. A real looker of a car, being a lighter version of the standard F430. Fast and well handled, this was a rival even for the special Ferrari Enzo. A worthy car on the track and road.  
-Lexus LFA: 552bhp, 4.8L V10, 203mph, 0-60 3.6secs, 2-door, 6-speed, 2010-2012. The first real successful supercar attempt from Lexus (known as the mild, luxury company). Full of technology that actively works and is useful, as well as being pretty damn quick surprisingly. Looks are well received too. Still, it's a Lexus.  
-Pagani Zonda S7.3: 555bhp, 7.3L V12, 198mph, 0-60 3.6secs, 6-speed, 2-door, 2002-2005. Another one in the top 10 for sure. Divine looks, huge engine and four exhausts in a diamond shape at the back make it very desirable. Excellent on track and road, it is a real Italian wonder with many special editions of it been made.**


	8. Spilling Secrets

**Alright, before you all beat me with your cold, wet fish you've got ready, I will say I am sincerely sorry for the long wait. Honestly, I just had some weird, minor writer's block: sometimes I'd get about 1000 words written in a sesh, sometimes only 100 or sometimes 2000; I had no clue what was going on. I'll try my best to be quicker from now on; hopefully I will be. Once again, profuse apologies (I am pretty annoyed at myself too by the way for not shaping up and writing). **

**Here we go then. Enjoy the chapter everyone and review as always! **

**Also wanted to say a huge thank you to people who have reviewed, followed and favourited this story. Appreciate it a lot guys and girls; it's always good to see a new review complimenting me or the chapter or saying something nice in general (it only takes 5 seconds to type something and it really helps me become motivated to write). Anything critical is a big help too of course. So if you can review, even saying the most minor of things, it will get me writing more and more quickly. **

** Dill Dragon: Thanks for the review. And I know about Naruto but I wouldn't know what he's like with Ramen sadly. If they did meet, oh snap. Perhaps it would work out well? And will do, no worries.  
2JZ-GTE: Thanks for the review. No problem and glad you did.  
'a person': Thanks for the review. Glad you liked it.  
'Guest': Thanks for the review. Appreciate the compliments, glad you like it. **

Chapter 8 - Spilling Secrets

Eragon POV

My mood's pretty sour as I follow Murtagh to my ride. That scene with Vanir really riled me and brought back a painful memory I thought I'd finally left behind…

_It was the night of Nolfravell's fateful race. All the Daggers and Cerberus members had turned up to get in on the action. I was talking to Mark, Nolf, Albriech, Baldor, Zacharia and some other mates, just chatting about cars and who might be racing tonight. I raised my head briefly to look around only to see Othmund swaggering over with two other Cerberus goons. _

_"Oi! Gayboys!" he yelled, trying to get our attention. We just ignored him as always. Angered by this, he gripped Mark's shoulder and spun him around; instantly Mark grabbed his hand and twisted it, putting him in a painful wrist lock. As you could probably tell by now, Mark didn't take shit from anyone. _

_Luckily some of the girls had come over and one of them was Mark's girlfriend, Svari, who quickly calmed him down with soothing words in his ear and rubbing his shoulder gently. I addressed Othmund myself, wanting to see what exactly he came here for._

_"What're you here for pissbag? Come to forfeit already?" I said harshly. _

_"Nah, I thought you'd be the one doing that Ery. Your crappy little Skyline ain't exactly a dream machine. But enough of that. I came here for something, someone in fact. You." Othmund turned to face Nolf, sneering at him too. _

_"Alright, you found me. Give yourself a pat on the back; I'm sure that was a huge accomplishment for your M&M sized brain." taunted Nolf, laughing along with the rest of us. _

_"Kinda like the size of your girl's tits then. I should know, remember?" At this, Nolf completely lost it and attempted to charge at Othmund; two of us managed to hold him back though by his arms. I couldn't blame Nolf though: Othmund had tried to rape Fiona a few weeks ago after school in a back alleyway nearby, having finally snapped after pining after her for week or so to no end. Fortunately, me and Nolf got there before anything serious happened since we'd been searching for Fiona, due to her 'mysterious' disappearance. Othmund got the utter bollocks beaten out of him that day and the hatred between him and Nolf rose to a new level. _

_"Alright Othmund: cut the drama. Just say what you want." I say in a low voice, irritated at his presence._

_"Simple really: a race. Him, me. Tonight. Game?" Nolf considered the proposition, looking at all of us for approval before deciding. Finally, he turned to me._

_"Eragon? What ya think? 'Yea or nay'?" _

_"'Yea' all the way. You'll leave him licking your tracks, no sweat." I reply back, full of confidence. _

_Half an hour later, in the hospital, I was proved entirely wrong. Half an hour a later I realised what an obvious setup this was for Othmund to get revenge on Nolf._

_As I comforted Mark with a hug, sobs racking his body, all I could think was, 'Damn it. God damn it all. Why did I say that? Why didn't I slap some sense into him and scream 'No! Don't fall for the trap which we all missed! Don't do it…'? Now he's gone and I'll always be partly to blame.'_

I stare blankly ahead as I walk on, the weight of that day heavy on my mind. Why am I racing then? Revenge? Othmund was arrested though, swiftly following Nolfravell's death. That's not it. Perhaps… perhaps it's to absolve some of the guilt lingering from that day.

Vanir's words echo in my head, overlapping Othmund's. 'You/Him, me. Tonight/Tonight's event. Game/You Game?" The similarity of their words unnerves me slightly but I'll make sure the outcome is far, far different. Vanir _will_ eat my dust.

"And here it is, your speed machine." gestures Murtagh with a grand flourish, snapping me out of my musing.

The Scuderia is a brilliant yellow colour with two thin black stripes running down the length of the car, missing the windscreen and along the bonnet in a straight line. It has black alloys with a yellow lining running around the circumference of them and yellow calipers. Heeding Arya's warning, I bend down to take a closer look at the tyre treads. It looks like they're sports tyres meaning they'll have decent grip; more importantly, they're not likely to blow out since they look pretty fresh. Good.

"Finished your inspection yet?" asks Murtagh, tapping his foot impatiently while holding out the car key.

"Yeah, sorry. It's all good. Where's your ride?" I ask as I take the key from him. He points somewhere behind the Ferrari to an electric orange Murcielago LP640. I whistle in appreciation before hopping into the Ferrari's driver seat, inserting the key and pushing the red 'Start' button.

My ears are instantly filled with a cacophony of noise as a few other cars, including Murtagh's, start up along with mine. I take a look at the interior and the driving area, familiarising myself with all the settings. Switching the knob on the steering wheel to 'Race' setting, I rev the engine slightly before pulling the right paddle forward to engage drive mode.

Suddenly there's a tapping noise on the window next me; I roll it down to find Murtagh leaning against the car, with his head by the window.

"Almost forgot: rules. Basically, no foul play is the only thing you need to remember. Like you can bump someone slightly but if you full on ram them, you're out. Skimming other people's tyres is also a no go. Oh, tonight there's no rocket fuel so don't waste your time looking for a micro switch or a tap. That's it. See ya on the far side Eragon." With that, he jogs back to his car, quickly climbs in and rolls up to the start line.

'At least the rules are simple,' I think to myself. 'Not that Vanir's planning to pay any attention tonight I bet though.' I too drive up to the start line, flashes of memories of driving in previous supercars in the Daggers flooding by.

It's way different to a sports car. Way, way different. Gunnar made sure to practically machine gun this into me...

_"Start getting cocky and you will lose control Eragon. You got that?" said Gunnar next to me in the driver's seat. All I could think was that I was currently in a Mercedes SLR Mclaren. I was in a god-damn hypercar!_

_"Yeah, yeah. I got it." I reply back, still in awe at the machine I was sitting in._

_"Good. Alright, I'm gonna go over the all the stuff you know how to do in a sportscar and apply to a supercar; technically a hyper car but same difference. Anyway, then it's your turn once I've showed you the ropes."_

_"Shit, this might not go so well."_

_"Ha, don't worry so much. You'll be a champion by the time we're done."_

That day I found out just how hard it was to drift in a 600+ bhp car for the first time; the amount of control and minor adjustments that were needed was incredible. Just by slapping on a few more horses and increasing the weight of the car by a few 100 kilograms or so, everything changed. Sure, at first I spun out and almost crashed a few times but after three weeks of training, on a few days after school every week, I felt like a 'champion' alright. And today I'd prove it: by creaming Vanir.

I grip the steering wheel firmly with one hand while resting the other on the right paddle, ready to shift into first at a moment's notice. I take a quick look to my side to see what I'd be up against: Murtagh's Murcielago is on the far right followed by Vanir's LFA, a SRT Viper and a Zonda.

Bloody hell. Those are all _insanely_ fast cars. Still, my main focus is Vanir: all I really care about is beating him.

I turn my head back to the road to see three girls, each one holding either a green, amber or red flag, appear on the pavement on Gloucester Road where we're all lined up. They raise their flags together, suspending them in the air. Guess I go on the fall of the green then.

The red falls and some of the other cars jitter forward and backward slightly. 'Steady Eragon,' I think, calming my nerves as much as I can.

The amber falls quickly too. Now I know how a pole position F1 driver feels.

The green flag finally falls after what seems an achingly long time. Instantly, I press down on the accelerator and the car bolts off the line like a bullet, along with the rest. Half a second later, I flick the right paddle behind the steering wheel as the revometer snaps up to 5000rpm, shifting up to second gear. I flick to third a second later and fourth in a similiar space of time, now at 6500rpm and climbing; all the while my foot is hard on the accelerator and not letting off the slightest.

We're all pretty much level as we reach 70mph, our cars having similiar performance in terms of acceleration. I glance at the pre-programmed satnav, registering the first turn coming up. It's a sharp right onto Courtfield Road. Wait, a right? Did they expect us to slow down for incoming traffic or something?

As we approach the turn, my fear subsides. Each car brakes sharply and simply steers right smoothly onto Courtfield Road with myself following suit too. Guess they knew not to take risks i.e. not to drift at 60mph onto a main road. I managed to slot just in front of Vanir's LFA as we rounded the corner so now I'm third and he's fourth, with all the cars in a straight line; the guy in fifth is in the Viper unsurprisingly since that car just does not handle well at all. I swear it almost hit the pavement ahead as it rounded the corner, even at only 40mph. Wow.

I punch the acceleration immediately as I right the steering and the rush of speed sets my skin tingling. God I love this feeling. I glance in the rear-view mirror to see Vanir attempting to gain on me; I subtly move in front of him as he pulls out with a small tilt of the steering wheel, effectively blocking him from overtaking me. How now brown cow?

The next turn isn't for another half mile however, so I need to make sure I don't let him pass me. Murtagh's Murcielago and the mysterious Zonda are up ahead, battling it out for first place as they swerve all over the road with Murtagh attempting to pass the Zonda. That doesn't bother me though: beating Vanir is my only focus right now.

I glance at the speedo as I shift up to fourth, seeing it reading 90mph. Christ… Thank God the streets are practically empty at night or this would turn ugly.

I flip the paddle once more, shifting to fifth as I hit triple figures. I honestly cannot get enough of this: it's as if I was born with the desire to race, just to go fast whenever possible. All for the thrill, for the pure ecstasy, that comes with the wonder known as 'speed'.

The day I fully give up racing is the day I become some sword-wielding battle mage.

Murtagh POV

It was a good start and straight after the first corner I plonked myself in second place, edging ahead of Eragon before whizzing off. The Murcielago is just a bit more powerful than the Scuderia, sorry Eragon.

Right now though, I'm trying to get past this Baral bloke in the Zonda. And it's not been easy. Every time I try to pull out and level with him, he moves to the left or right slightly to put me off or an oncoming car forces me to tuck back behind him. I'll try and get him on one of the corners; maybe a bit of nudging will help too.

I glance in the rear-view mirror, eyeing the Scuderia and LFA racing close together. It's standard practice for some reason to take the first corner of any race 'normally', as if we're all partnering ourselves up with another person to individually race against. Soon there'll be a split where two or three cars race for first and the rest battle for third or fourth. Sometimes, near the end, we all bunch up again somehow and it turns into a real dog fight on the last straight.

I have a feeling it's gonna be the former in this race.

I hurtle towards the mini-roundabout, not bothering to slow down as I skim the outside of it while racing past. The car jolts slightly as I go over but I'm used to it by now.

The second corner approaches quickly and I grip the steering wheel in a way to prepare myself for a drift. I'm tempted to take a look in the rear-view mirror at Eragon behind me to see him drift but overtaking Baral is a priority for me. The Zonda expertly slides around the corner onto Knaresborough Place, the front wheels flicking right then rapidly left allowing the back end out. I follow suit too, using a clutch-kick drift technique.

Just before I reach the turn I press down on the clutch, holding it in while I shift down to second from fifth, a gear at a time rapidly. At the same time I rev the engine hard up to about 5000rpm before releasing the clutch, letting the power surge knock the back end out initiating the drift. The familiarity of it all allows me to easily control the slide, holding the steering wheel at an angle while making minor corrections to control the drift. Letting the wheel straighten at the end of the corner, I get back on the accelerator and watch how the speed shoots up. 80, 100, 120, 130.

But the Zonda's just as quick too, 10 metres ahead tearing down the road as I try to catch up. Damn. This Forsworn member is scarily good and likely has a tuned engine by the fact that he's leaving me in his trails. Luckily, so do I you douche.

The third turn onto Cromwell Road comes up and I prepare to drift again but using a different technique this time: the power-over drift. As the names suggests, it requires the car to have a load of power and boy do I tick that box. More importantly, it should let me exit the corner at a higher speed than normal and close the gap between me and the Zonda.

I brake, slowing quickly and shift down to third before turning into the wide corner (since Cromwell Road is a pretty broad road). Instantly I floor the accelerator with a sharp jab, before letting off and feeling the back end fling out as the rear tyres lose traction. Counter steering as per normal, I maintain the quicker drift with one or two jabs of the accelerator to keep the car angled. As I round the corner, I right the wheel once again slamming the accelerator taking advantage of the gap closure.

Or so I thought. Instead I find myself at the same distance behind the Zonda. For fuck's sake! I slam the steering wheel with the palm of my hand, groaning in frustration at being unable to catch the car ahead of me. What does this guy have under the bonnet? A nuclear reactor?

I stare grimly ahead, my eyes locked on to the Zonda. One way or another, this geezer is going down.

Eragon POV

That was a close call but a costly one at the same time.

While drifting around onto Cromwell Road, Vanir nudged the back of my car causing it to swing out more than intended. I practically ended up on the other side of the road and narrowly avoided a few oncoming cars before moving over to the correct side. Vanir managed to slip ahead while all this was going on and now I'm hell-bent on getting past him again.

It's made worse by the fact that there's another fairly long straight before the next turn. Bollocks.

I smoothly shift up gears, the semi-automatic transmission in the Scuderia being a big help. Still, the good old manual transmission systems are the best for racing since you just have more control over how and when to shift. It's almost a matter of style you might say too.

Vanir and I both shoot down Cromwell Road, the guy in Viper lagging behind after once again under steering onto the road. I spot a crossroad coming up with traffic lights but they turn from green to amber just as we pass; now that was a fluke right there. I look behind to see the Viper cross the red lights, not bothering to slow down at all. Guess there aren't any lights on the cameras or he would've been done in for sure.

As the next turn onto Warwick Road approaches, I realise I need to drift to have a chance of overtaking Vanir, if not further close the gap at the very least. Here goes.

I drop down to third at about 60mph before flooring the throttle and flicking the wheel to the right. Now came the tricky bit: controlling the damn car. The back end practically flew out, the sheer power of the engine causing the back wheels to spin madly and lose traction. I quickly counter steered, turning the steering wheel to the left while adjusting the throttle constantly to keep the car almost sideways as well.

I hear a loud scraping noise as the front left tip of my Scuderia grazes against Vanir's LFA's back bumper while he's drifting too. It's not enough to make him completely lose the drift but enough to put him off at least so that, as we exit the corner and straighten out, we're level once again. Karma's a bitch Vanir.

I glance at the satnav to see another long straight ahead before the next turn. Max speed it is then. Keeping the accelerator pressed down as fully as possible, I blast down Warwick Road with Vanir mirroring my actions. Neither of us gives each other any leeway whatsoever. Not even a millimetre.

Another crossroad comes into view but luck is once again with me today as the lights stay green while I cross. Tearing past a car showroom causes a few alarms to go off and a quick look in the wing mirror shows a pissed off manager shaking his fist at us in the distance, likely cursing his head off too. All I can say is tough tiddies mate.

The next turn, a roundabout, is about 100 metres away but there's been no change between me and Vanir: we're still joint third. Murtagh and the guy in the Zonda are still about 20 metres ahead, with Murtagh failing to overtake the other car repeatedly. He must be pretty ticked off by now I imagine.

As those two ahead enter the roundabout though, they suddenly snap sideways and power slide around the entire thing billowing smoke, before heading out onto the exit to Holland Park Avenue. Shit. I don't know how to power slide at all. What's worse is that Vanir _does_ know how to and he effortlessly skids round the roundabout too, maintaining his speed and opening up the gap between us by a fair amount.

I shift down to third with a quick flick of the left paddle and take the roundabout as fast as I can at 50mph without being able to slide. The tail flicks out a bit though as I finish turning, so I naturally counter-steer and straighten out before almost futilely chasing after Vanir. How the hell am I supposed to catch him now?

Arya POV

Having practically focused on Eragon's displays for the entire race so far I've come to realise that, while he has plenty of talent, he's clearly lacking in range of techniques: slides, drifts, bumping, fine car control and so on. Roundabouts are a must for power slides and he needs to know when to engage what kind of drift for the correct situation. Right now I can tell he's only using one type over and over from watching the extra 'secret' camera we fitted in his car, allowing us to see the pedals and steering wheel areas.

Still, judging by his present show of skill, I would imagine that these issues could easily be rectified with a bit of coaching.

"What do you think then Arya? Impressed by the newbie or not really?" asks Saphira, standing next to me and watching Eragon pursue Vanir down a straight.

"Regardless of what I think, I'd say it's pretty clear he's no newbie. He knows a basic drift, handles the car well for its weight and power and isn't afraid to knock others about."

"Mildly impressed it is then." I smile slightly while shaking my head.

"You know me too well. But… actually, never mind."

"But what?"

"It's-"

"And don't you dare say it's nothing or I swear to God I will slap you silly."

"I was going to say he's got some ulterior motive here, something to… prove."

"Enlighten me."

"It's hard to explain. Just that his eyes before the race were determined and his whole posture seemed resolute in a way. I'm really not sure." Saphira opens her mouth to reply, before slowly closing it and turning back to the displays.

I go back to watching Eragon's display, observing him drift onto Campden Hill Road with the same method. His spiteful words before the race run in my mind, causing me to consider them once again.

Eragon POV

The satnav registers a few successive turns in short intervals after I round the corner onto Campden Hill Road. Perfect. Time to gain back that lost ground.

The first turn is onto Sheffield Terrace onto which I drift at a lower speed to compensate for the following turn ahead. Straightening out, I don't brake or switch down at all when I get to Hornton Street, skidding onto it at a higher speed than the last turn. And, at the same time, I finally get a break.

Vanir overshoots the turn, entering the drift at way too high a speed causing his LFA to go completely sideways as the back end flicks out of control. He slows considerably too from him trying to correct his fault hastily, allowing me to straighten out and rapidly fly past. Third and fourth gears are a blur before I brake sharply, shift down and flick the wheel right, initiating a tight drift onto Pitt Street since the turning angle is greater than 90 degrees.

I force myself not to even take a glimpse at the rear-view mirror for fear of losing focus or worrying over Vanir's proximity. If he takes me now then that God-given moment will have been for nothing.

The satnav shows the road having a tricky 'S-curve' in it due to it narrowing suddenly, as well as there being a row of parked cars on either side of it. Typical. Guess I'll have to let off the drifting this time and take it smooth but fast.

Going all the way down to second, I slow to 40mph and take both curves perfectly while avoiding the parked cars easily. Smooth moves Eragon, smooth moves.

I hear a loud thump to the rear forcing me to look behind as Vanir clumsily ricochets off one of the parked cars. His dangerously pointed headlights pretty much reflect how mad he must be right now; no wonder he's losing control so much. Speaking of which, that guy in the Viper is gonna have some fun times negotiating these turns. _Not_. Haha.

I yank the wheel sharply again, drifting wildly onto Kensington Church Street before reining the car in once more and bolting towards the next turn onto the High Street. I lost sight of Murtagh and Zonda boy when I was just about to go through that S-curve; I manage to catch a quick peek of their back ends though as they slide onto the High Street. Zonda's _still_ in the lead; I swear that guy must be on a crack high or something. How is he so good?

Murtagh POV

How is this wanker so good?

I'm lost for answers to this question as I plunge down the High Street behind the Zonda, a few pedestrians gasping or shouting in fright. Out of the way people, out of the damn way. Nothing to see here: just a few supercars racing each other at 100mph plus speeds.

I see Eragon's leading Vanir, go on son. Put that Warden arse in his place. Now if only I could put this demon boy in his place too…

The Zonda brakes up ahead, its circular brake lights lighting up brightly before flickering off as it ghosts round the corner onto Victoria Road. Huh, it's the road Eragon lives on. I wonder - do his guardians know that he street-races or not? I make a mental note to question him about this later.

Whizzing past Eragon's house, I continue my current speed as the next few corners are all of slight bend, meaning they're high speed curves. And, of course, Zonda boy recognises this too unfortunately.

We both sprint onto Victoria Grove, the road being two way once again after the road works finished a few days ago. We cross Gloucester Road without even bothering to look left or right since the glare or reflection of a nearby, oncoming vehicle's headlights would have been enough of a warning for us to slow down. It comes with experience.

Queen's Gate Terrace goes past in a few seconds and before you know it, we're braking to turn onto Queen's Gate. But, lo and behold, disaster finally strikes for the Zonda and I fully take advantage of it.

As he's about to enter a drift, he clips the kerb while turning to the right, in effect making him slow down drastically and getting the drift horribly wrong. Being the expert driver he is, he pulls it all together but not before I've taken him with a power-over drift on the inside. Suck on that, bitch!

It's a 500 metre straight to the final turn and I'm completely flooring it. There's no space between the floor and the accelerator pedal right now. My right hand is on the steering wheel and the left is firmly gripping the gear lever knob in the correct manner as always, allowing me to shift up gears more rapidly and efficiently. It's another basic racing technique where the side you grip the lever from and in what direction your thumb is pointing, up or down, makes a huge difference when shifting.

I power slide round onto Cromwell Road since it's pretty wide, adding bursts of power from the throttle when necessary to keep the car going in an almost lateral position. My speed doesn't decrease much either from doing this which is all the better for me. I head for the finish line, comfortably ahead of the Zonda by 20 metres or so.

Sweet victory is mine.

Eragon POV

Argh, I'm such an idiot!

I made a mistake while drifting onto Queen's Gate. I clipped the back of a parked car as I rounded the corner, causing my Scuderia to jitter slightly and lose some crucial speed as it turned more than required. Vanir capitalised on this, closing the gap greatly between this as he skilfully slid round and avoided any cars as if making up for his previous error.

He then went level with me as he powerslided onto Cromwell Road whereas I took it as a high speed corner like the one at Queen's Gate Terrace. I seriously need to learn how to powerslide. Why the flip did I never learn back in Dagenham?!

Right now I'm flat out alongside Vanir, with no indication of either us gaining on each other at all. Murtagh and Zonda boy are about 50 metres ahead but Murtagh's in the lead. He deserves this win by the sound of what Vanir was saying earlier about his track record.

He crosses the finish, being the crossroad where we started, as the starter girls wave the green flag for first, the amber for second for the Zonda and the red for joint third as me and Vanir finish practically together. I see a bright flash as I cross though, meaning someone must have taken a photo finish of us.

Good. I come to a quick stand still, put the car in neutral and leap out after switching the engine off. Had I won or was that last mistake my undoing?

Arya POV

I walk swiftly out of the viewing tent, heading for the finish line to pick up one of the two camcorders on either side of the road. I go back into the tent, handing the camcorder to Raven who connects it to one of the laptops via a USB cable.

We have video editing software installed on the laptops which allow us to slow down captured videos enough to settle any ties or disputes.

"Erm, Arya. They, erm…" stutters Raven, pointing at the laptop screen. I take a closer look for myself, only to observe something exceptionally rare. A real tie. As in both cars' front ends touched the finish at exactly the same time.

"They tied it seems." I state in a neutral voice although internally I'm fairly shocked. This has only ever happened seven or eight times out of the hundreds of races I've witnessed in the past two years.

"That's crazy. Man, if only Eragon hadn't accidentally scraped that dumb car on the way onto Queen's Gate. Still, Vanir will be _so_ _freaking pissed_."

"You can count on him to throw a child's tantrum, that's for sure." The tent flap is suddenly ripped open, Eragon and Vanir both storming in and heading for the laptops immediately.

They're faces turn from expressions of burning curiosity to ones of complete astonishment as expected.

"A… A tie?!" yells Vanir, his face now contorting in rage. Gods save us all. "But-"

"There's no 'buts' or 'ifs' Vanir. It's exactly how it appears on the screen and technology can't lie, can it now?" I interrupt him quickly, not wanting to listen to his tirade of complaints.

"A draw it is then. Good race Vanir." Eragon holds out his hand to Vanir which he reluctantly accepts. They grip each other's hands more than normal judging by the strain on their skin but it's Vanir who winces, with Eragon apparently not feeling anything.

Typical boys.

Vanir then stalks out of the tent, mumbling furiously to himself. He's always been a sore loser for some reason; I just don't know why he's never been able to take a loss and learn from it like everyone else, instead of whining like a little baby. Eragon takes a quick glance at the screen before heading out too but in a calmer fashion. I follow him out a few seconds later, ignoring the looks from Raven and Saphira.

I find Eragon away from the crowds leaning against a wall casually, while staring at the traffic on the nearby roads. As I approach him, my footsteps cause him to whip his head towards me. He looks surprised to see me.

"Arya. What're you doing out here?"

"Looking for you actually."

"What for…?" He trails off, looking at me questioningly.

"I wanted to apologise for my words earlier, before the race. Perhaps I should have kept my thoughts and opinions to myself."

"There's no need, really; all's forgiven. I'm sorry too for that outburst. That was pretty harsh and unfair of me."

"Apology accepted although, I would like to know where you learnt to race as you do." He hesitates slightly as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply, conflicted internally on whether to answer my question. "If you don't mind that is to say…"

"No, no. I don't mind. It's just hard to talk about and brings back some… memories, let's say." A small smile appears on his face as he shakes his head. Walking over to a bench, he pats the space beside him inviting me to sit down too. "It's a fairly long story, if you have the time to listen that is to say…" He says, mirroring my words while smirking cheekily at me. I return the smirk before sitting down on the bench.

"Oh, I'd say I have the time." I reply airily, waving my hand nonchalantly and playing along with him.

"Jolly good!" He says, with an exaggerated British accent. I can't help but smile at his antics. "Okay, back to being serious. Before I moved here, I lived in Dagenham all my life since birth. You know where that is right?" I nod in response. "When I turned 14 and started my GCSEs, I made friends with a few people who knew about a few street racing groups in the area. They weren't part of the groups but they used to go and watch races a lot of the time. I started tagging along too and I instantly loved it seeing as I already had a passion for watching motorsport and cars in general. As soon as I turned 16, I asked Uncle Garrow if I could start practising to drive in his car in an empty car park or something."

"Uncle? Did you not live with your parents?" I ask warily. His eyes tell me all I need to know as a brief flash of grief and hurt pass through them, before they return to their normal state.

"I don't know who my parents are. Never have and probably never will." He leans forward onto his hands as he rests his elbows on his knees. I impulsively stretch out my hand towards him before faltering and pulling back.

"I'm sorry Eragon, I shouldn't have asked that-"

"It's fine, honestly. I've been asked that question numerous times now so I'm pretty used to it. Don't worry. Anyways, my cousin Roran who lived with me taught me the basics of clutch control, shifting gears, controlling the car, reversing and so on. All the stuff you'd learn from an instructor essentially. I got my license a few months after I turned 17 after having 15 hours of driving lessons and passing the test the first time. I remember the examiner being pretty impressed."

"That is quite impressive actually. I only passed after 20 hours on my first try and Saphira after 20 but on her second go."

"Really? Oh, sweetness. I am not going to let this go; wait till I see you next Saphira." He grins mischievously before speaking again. "So when I had my license I asked Mark, the head of the Daggers, if I could join his racing group. He put me through a series of tests and I passed with flying colours. And that's how I got into street racing. Afterwards, I learnt to drift, handle sports cars and super cars, drive at high speeds of 100mph plus and some other stuff from my other mates who were part of the Daggers too. That's my story basically."

"So, now I know about the 'newb'." I struggle to contain a smile fighting its way out as I wait for his reaction.

"Yup- wait, newb?! What?" He says loudly, a bewildered expression plastered on his face.

"Sorry Eragon but all new drivers are known as newbs until they prove themselves thoroughly through races." I laugh shortly at his reaction and he does too, leaning back and flopping his arms behind the bench. "I do have another question though."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you become so enraged at my questions before the race?"

"I could clearly ask you the same thing…" he mutters softly, glancing at me with a piercing look before turning away once more. I turn away too, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

"If you don't want to say, that's fine. It was a personal question anyway." I move to leave but he reaches out and grips my wrist gently.

"No, it's fine. Again, it's memories - or rather a _bad_ memory this time."

"You really don't-"

"Arya, it's fine. And I don't mind telling you for some reason." He flashes me a quick smile before facing the ground again. "There aren't always happy endings in races, if you catch my meaning. During the time I was in the Daggers, there were a few crashes. Some were pretty minor and the drivers came out unscathed. Others… others weren't so lucky; some wrecked really, really badly."

I turn to face him, staring at him intently as he tells his tale. "When Vanir first walked over and started bad-mouthing us, it brought back one specific memory I hate myself for." By now he's almost whispering. "I had a friend called Nolfravell." At the mention of that name, my eyes widen slightly. His story was all over the media when the event happened.

"A guy called Othmund who he loathed challenged him to a race in pretty much the exact same way Vanir challenged me. Before the race he asked for my opinion on whether he should accept. A chance for vengeance or play it safe? I told him vengeance and it led to him ending up in the hospital in a coma before dying. Ever since then I just can't forgive myself; I've always felt his death was partly mine to blame. I mean, I should have-"

I cut him off and do something completely unexpected, surprising even myself. I reach forward and lightly touch his jaw, gently pulling his face up towards mine while leaving a small gap. "Eragon," I say quietly, "Let bygones be bygones: it's in the past and done. I may not have lost friends but I've seen many succumb to devastating injuries and it _is_ painful to see. I know. More importantly, I'm sure he wouldn't want you to keep on kicking yourself but instead move on. Let go of the guilt Eragon and everyone will be better off. Trust me."

Eragon's eyes bore into mine and mine into his. I feel my face flush slightly and his appears to redden somewhat too. His hand then covers mine and whispers faintly,

"Thank you." I begin to lose myself in his coffee-brown eyes once more but we both pull away abruptly, as if knowing the moment's passed, his hand slipping off mine and mine retracting itself from his jaw.

I smile softly at him and he returns the gesture.

"You're welcome. I'll see you around then Eragon."

"You too Arya." I get up and head back to the Warden's crowd. "Wait!" Spinning around, I face Eragon with a questioning look.

"You have to tell me about yourself someday, you know, seeing as I've spilled my life story to you. It's only fair."

"Someday." I smirk before turning around once more and walking back, my mood upbeat and lifted for once.

**And cut. So, once again review please and hope you enjoyed the whole chapter. Let me know what you thought of the race, your comments, opinions and what you thought of the scene at the end. Too mushy/fluffy? Too little maybe? Next chapter up in two weeks at max, so hopefully in a weeks' time. **

**Notes:-  
-Powersliding is different to drifting. Keep that in mind, they are in no way the same. You could consider drifting 'controlled powersliding' but that would still be a very crude way of thinking about it. I'll explain more later.  
-Newbs are newcomers or freshies to something e.g. here racing, for those of you that didn't know.  
-Muscle cars honestly just do not even know the meaning of handling. Newer ones, like the Viper, are slightly better with electronic aid but not much relative to supercars.  
-Traffic laws are really strict in the UK, especially if you cross red lights. You will be done in for that seriously.  
-Roundabouts are… well round. It's hard to explain them, look em up on the internet for a picture of them. All will be explained from just looking at one.  
-The Scuderia has a flappy-paddle gearbox i.e. semi-automatic transmission meaning the driver still changes gears (by flicking alternate paddles) but there's no clutch required. The car electronically manages all that. Clever, eh?  
Any other bits you don't understand, just ask by PM or review and I will endeavour to answer. **


	9. I'm In

**Moving on then… finally. Hopefully this chapter doesn't seem too 'filler-ish'; it's just laying down some important plot points and some ExA interaction. Enjoy the chapter guys and review if you can as always. Also, hopefully the next update won't be so long since I've already written some of the next chapter.**

**Special interruption: Advertising 'Circle of Circles' community, managed by myself, Tamerhelm85 and middleearthmidget. Check it out if you can. **

** 'Guest': Thanks for the review. Glad you liked the ExA bit, more of that to come soon.**

** other 'guest': Thanks for the review. Sorry for the delay again.  
a tiny American: Thanks for the review. And why so interested in my name? My initials are AS if you really want to know though.  
Dill Dragon: Thanks for the review. And no, it won't ever come to months. Trust me. Glad you liked the races; I'm a bit worried they might get boring if I make them too long though. And ExA relationship will be expanding…  
Evatross: Thanks for the review. I may just use them, I'll see. I already have a long list of cars to put in already but I'll try to fit them in.**

* * *

Chapter 9 - I'm In

Eragon POV

I watch Arya walk away for a few seconds before staring out towards the traffic once again. Her words echo in my mind as I reflect on them.

_'Let go of the guilt Eragon and everyone will be better off. Trust me.'_ Trust her? I guess she did say that she's suffered from seeing some of her friends get injured too…

Maybe letting go is for the best; it'll take time but I've held onto this guilt for way too long. And all it took was a few words from someone I barely know to make me acknowledge that finally. Huh.

My thoughts are interrupted by a certain person shouting my name. I turn my head to see Murtagh walking over with a mischievous look on his face. Here we go.

"_So_" he says, drawing out the word. "I see you had a nice chat with Arya then, eh?" Of course: what else would he bloody want to talk about?

"Look Murtagh, I'm not in the mood for this right now." He whistles loudly while putting his hands up in mock defence.

"Things didn't go so well with Ary-" I cut him off with a glare. He coughs lightly before talking again. "What's up then? C'mon, tell me. You look pretty philosophical there - pondering life and all that?"

"Something like that." I mutter in response.

"Well, regardless, I came to get you. Nasuada wants to talk to you and it's important." He laughs at my reaction. "You're not in trouble or anything. She has a proposition for you and I think you might like it."

"Lead the way." I gesture with my hand ahead of me while getting up.

We head back towards the crowds of people mingled among the cars. The symbols painted on the cars and stitched on people's jackets catch my eye once again. Note to self: ask someone what exactly they mean.

"Good, you're here Eragon. Congratulations on the race by the way: Vanir's an experienced driver by all rights and the fact that you managed to tie with him is very impressive." says Nasuada as we approach her.

"Thanks but he certainly didn't seem to appreciate it."

"Well that's just classic Vanir for you: always being the stuck-up nob." replies Murtagh.

"I have to agree with Murty, it's true. Anyway, back to the reason I called you here. I'll keep it short and simple: I want you to join our street-racing group, the Paladins." My eyes widen in shock.

Past memories come rushing back in a torrent, as if a flood gate had just been lifted off them. The Daggers. Mark. My Nissan Skyline. Nolfravell's crash. Uncle Garrow's words. I close my eyes briefly while taking a long breath, before replying to Nasuada's offer.

"I need to think about this." Her expression shows surprise momentarily before reverting back to its normal look.

"There's no pressure or rush, just get back to me or Murtagh at school when you've made your decision. If you have any questions just ask Murtagh here; he can fill you in. Right now, I need to go check up on some other members since something bad has bound to have happened tonight. I'll see you around Eragon." She walks off towards another large crowd with a confident aura, as if she was a leader of some sort.

"Well?" asks Murtagh, looking at me in anticipation.

"Like I said, I need to sit down and think about this."

"You're not thinking about the crash you recently had are you?"

"No, that's not it. It's- look, if you really want to know ask Arya about it. I talked to her about my past a bit after the race which has a lot to do with this situation."

"I swear I'm always asking Arya, Nasuada or somebody else for details; why am I always out of the loop?" He says while rubbing his hand down his face with fake dejection. "Alright, I'll ask her about it. Any questions though?"

"Are you in the Paladins?"

"My God, talk about stating the obvious…" he mutters. "Yes, have a medal Eragon. I am in the Paladins. Next thing you'll be asking is whether I own a flipping car or not."

"Alright, keep your pants on mate. _Talk about being bitchy_." I say, mimicking his earlier words. He just gives me a flat stare before looking expectantly at me again. "Just give me the low-down on the whole racing system here."

"Excellent question young Watson! Righty ho then." He clears his throat several times before continuing while I chuckle slightly at his response. "You've got four groups which dominate most of central London: the Paladins, the Wardens, the Smithies and the Forsworn. We're all pretty tight and chummy with each other apart from the Forsworn who nobody likes; they stick to themselves mostly because they're a bunch of tossers. Now, everyone pretty much owns a car for racing in all the groups since we're rich and all." He pauses for a moment. "Wow, that sounded a bit arrogant. Never mind. Anyway, our parents pay our insurance, MOTs and stuff since we all 'study hard and get good grades'; they also have absolutely no idea that we street race. No idea _whatsoever_."

"You're kidding. Honestly no idea?" I interrupt, unable to believe him. "You'd think they'd have picked up on something like this by now…"

"You'd think that wouldn't you? We've got it covered though: it's not exactly a lie but more being economical with the truth you might say. Basically, they know we mess about slightly in the cars such as doing donuts, mini drag races and so on. And they don't mind that since it's not too dangerous when you think about it. So, they take no notice of us custom painting our cars, fitting mods or new alloys, tuning the engine, etc. You see where I'm going with this?"

"That is ridiculously sneaky." I cackle with an evil grin on my face.

"You bet. Also, each group has a leader and a, erm… what's a good term for this? Council? Essentially a group of sub-leaders made up of three people who vote on decisions of where and when to race, who races, yada yada. Ultimately the leader of each group has the final say on all these matters."

"Organised. I like it." A smug look appears on Murtagh face at my comment.

"Well, I like to think we're more professional about this whole business than other ruffians-"

"Hey, don't go insulting smaller groups. Some of us are _actually_ pretty decent you know."

"Don't I know it. I was only kidding, calm down Eraturd." Scowling at my 'nickname', I then ask another question.

"So how do you guys go about organising race times, locations, etc. Is it a regular thing or just whenever the leaders feel like it?"

"There are at least two races every week. Either they're both on a weekday at night or one on a weekday night and one on a weekend night. Sometimes it actually is 'night' like now or sometimes it's late afternoon while the sun's still up. Just depends on people's convenience more than anything. Leaders, along with the sub-leaders, normally have a quick ten minute meeting with the other groups after a race has finished and finalise where the next race will be. It makes it easier that way."

"Sounds good. But…"

"What?"

"I don't have my own car. Isn't that a teensy bit of a problem?" I ask.

"We can sort something out. It's not like we expect everyone who joins to have a car so don't panic. Normally new recruits use a spare car like you did for a few weeks before they sort something out. You've got plenty of time Eragon."

"Sweet. I might be able to persuade my Uncle to let me drive one of his cars. He's got a collection of five beastly machines."

"Sweetness. Alright, I gotta go find Nasuada now and ask her about some stuff. Catch ya later."

"Wait! Before you go, can you explain what these four symbols are that I keep seeing on people's jackets and cars everywhere? I guess it's something to do with there being four racing groups but I just want to know who's who since I've so many of them tonight."

"Good question, I probably should have pointed that out. The knight brandishing a sword is the Paladins' symbol, the bow and arrows are the Wardens', the crossed war-hammers are the Smithies' and the horned skull is the Forsworns'. Anymore questions?"

"Nope, that's about it."

"Good. Like I said, I need to bounce and find Nasuada. See ya Eragon."

"Alright, I'm off too. It's 10:50 and I promised my uncle I'd be back by 11. Later." We fist bump before both heading off in separate directions.

'Shit it's cold,' I think to myself while zipping up my hoodie completely and slipping my hood and gloves on. As I walk by the crowds, I catch sight of Saphira and Arya in conversation some distance away. Saphira somehow notices me and waves, causing Arya to look up and spot me too. She gives a small nod in my direction and I reply likewise to both of them before jogging down Gloucester Road in the direction of my house. Just before I turn away though, I see Saphira give Arya a nudge and gesture wildly in my direction with a hand.

Huh. Wonder what that's about. On second thought, it might be a 'girl thing' so maybe I don't want to know.

Saphira POV

"Arya! What the hell?" I shout in her face. This woman, I swear…

"What?"

"Don't 'what' me! A nod, that's it?"

"You know I don't really wave at people Saphira. What did you expect me to do? Go running over and give him a bear hug?"

"I would've thought after your 'talk' with Eragon that you would at least go and say bye to him."

"It's clear he was in a rush: he had his hoodie zipped up and he was going away in a hurry."

"He was jogging though."

"As opposed to walking?"

"Alright, fair enough. Stubborn woman."

"You know me so well." She says, rolling her eyes slightly at my remark.

"I do indeed." I reply while grinning widely. "How about we head over to Nasuada? She said she was going to ask Eragon about joining the Paladins tonight, after seeing his earlier performance."

"Good idea." We wander around for a few minutes before finally spotting Nasuada talking with Murtagh and heading over to her.

"Saphira, Arya. Anything wrong?" asks Nasuada as we approach.

"No, everything's all good. We're just wondering whether or not you asked Eragon-"

"About joining our group? I did but he's asked for more time so I told him to tell me or Murtagh about his decision at school."

"He asked for more time? Why?"

"I have no idea myself; I didn't ask since I didn't want to pry or seem nosy."

"Arya? Any ideas?" Arya suddenly jerks her head back towards us, having been staring at something on the floor with her head tilted downwards slightly. "You seemed pretty deep in thought there."

"Sorry, I just zoned out. I can't explain Eragon's actions either frankly." she says with a straight face. Like hell I believe her.

"So be it. I think I'm going to head home now and get some sleep. You want a lift Arya?"

"It's fine; I brought my Reventon. I'll be heading off too now Nasuada, Murtagh. See you guys tomorrow." We all chorus 'bye' at her before she turns around and walks off into the night.

"Well she was clearly lying through her teeth." says Murtagh suddenly, breaking the silence that had descended over the group of us.

"Don't we know it. I'll wheedle some info out of her tomorrow at school, you can count on that. For now, I'll be off. Later guys and don't stay up too late now okay? You kiddies have school tomorrow."

"Well so do you, so go fu-"

"Language Murty. Always respect your elders; you need to drill some manners into him Nassy." He glowers at me before shaking his head and walking off.

"I'm heading back too. See ya ladies." I notice Nasuada keep her gaze fixed on his diminishing figure for a while before smiling ever so softly. I smirk before walking off too.

"Sweet dreams Nasuada; I think we all know who you'll be fantasising over tonight." I call over my shoulder.

"Oh really? I wonder who shares the larger proportion of your dreams: Thorn or Firnen?" I feel myself flush at her comment.

"That is totally different!" I yell, turning around briefly.

"Whatever you say." Rolling my eyes, I swing back around and start walking more swiftly as I feel the cool night air seep into my clothing. I suddenly breathe out sharply and watch the water vapour in my breath condense into a small cloud of droplets; I just can't help but do that for some reason when I'm out and about in the cold.

Eragon POV

By my watch, it's 11:02. Success - no angry guardians to deal with this time.

I unlock the front door, praying it isn't squeaky. Thankfully it isn't and I manage to sneak in without making any noise. Why am I sneaking? To avoid all the usual questions: where'd you go then? Who'd you hang out with? What did you do? And so on. Right now, I just want to hit the sack and get some shut-eye.

I head towards the living room quietly; the light's on meaning they must be up still. I plan on just sticking my head in, saying a quick "I'm back and going to sleep now" before darting out and rushing upstairs. Hopefully all goes well.

Instead, my ears pick up a heated argument between Uncle Brom and Aunt Selena. Too curious for my own good, I stand just out of sight beside the living room entrance to eavesdrop.

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?!"

"Because it'll be too much of a shock! That's why!" Sheesh, why not shout a bit louder Uncle Brom? I don't think Saphira quite heard that on the next street. Aunt Selena replies in a hushed tone a few seconds later.

"I can't keep doing this Brom, I honestly can't. All it'll take is one accidental slip of the mouth and things will go awry. I'm amazed at how I've managed to keep this up so far."

"I know. I know how badly you want to say something but the time's not right yet. We'll need at least half a day to explain everything, maybe more. Even then, we'll need to give him time to take everything in and answer any questions." _Him?_ Who the hell is _him?_

Aunt Selena takes in a shuddery breath and I peek around the corner, ever so slightly, to see Uncle Brom embrace her with a miserable look on his face. His eyes seem shinier than normal and I realise a thin film of moisture has formed over them. My mind becomes troubled at seeing him this dejected: what could be so bad that _even_ Uncle Brom gets misty-eyed over it?

They stay how they are for a while before Aunt Selena rests her head on his shoulder.

"Eragon should be back soon come to think of it." she says, still speaking with a subdued voice.

"Mm. The boy had better not be late again."

"You can hardly talk you know."

"I suppose you're right. I wasn't exactly one for punctuality in my early years."

"Showing up late for our first date does imply that dear." I chuckle mentally at that; I'll have to ask them about this story sometime.

"At least I didn't show up late subsequently."

"I suppose you made up for it." she kisses him on the cheek before yawning abruptly. "And now I think I'll sleep. Don't be up too late, you seem to have knack for not being able to get into bed quietly."

"It's hardly my fault you're a light sleeper but I'll try not to make too much of a racket then." Another fun fact about Uncle Brom. God, I'm going to have to write all these down just to tease him about them.

Wait. Aunt Selena said she's going to sleep so that means… ah, crap. She'll be heading towards the stairs which are in _my_ direction. My mind rapidly whirs into action and I creep back to the front door, opening and closing it loudly to create the impression that I'd just arrived.

"I'm back!" I yell, taking off my trainers this time and once again heading towards the living room.

"Good, you're back on time Eragon. Enjoyed yourself then?" asks Uncle Brom, his eyes now having lost their previous shine. He must have wiped away the moisture when he heard my voice.

"Yup, it was good. I'm going to head straight to bed though since I'm beat and I've got school tomorrow, so…"

"That's fine. We were about to suggest you sleep straightaway anyway so head on up then." says Aunt Selena. I give them both quick hugs, before saying goodnight and going upstairs to my room.

Sleep doesn't come quickly though: my whole body is still tingling with excitement after the race. I just can't seem to relax. It doesn't help that my mind is also in a muddle of thoughts over Nasuada's offer to join her group and the conversation I had with Arya tonight. The argument I listened in on is what's really set me alight with a burning curiosity though.

One question is firmly implanted in my mind from listening however: could they have been talking about me? More importantly, what are they hiding?

* * *

While cycling to school the next day, I meet up with Murtagh while locking up my bike.

"You made a decision yet then?" he asks, looking at me hopefully.

"Not yet. Still mulling some things over."

"Oh, come on. I've given you the basic overview so now it's a simple case of yes or-"

"No! It's fucking not a simple 'yes or no' Murtagh!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me why then."

"Why do you want to know?"

"You clearly love racing Eragon. The look on your face last night was practically of pure excitement and exhilaration _every_ second. So why do you insist upon letting whatever it is hold you back? My guess is that's it's something to do with what you and Arya talked about and more."

"Maybe…" Again, Arya's words flicker through my mind momentarily. _'Let go of the guilt Eragon.'_ "I just thought I'd left this all behind when I moved. Instead, I find myself slipping back into it all over as if I'm finding-"

"Your natural rhythm again?" finishes Murtagh for me. "Simple piece of advice Eragon: don't overcomplicate this. Ignore past events. Ignore other pressures. Ignore everything else. Just think about what you want. Who gives a toss about anything else?" At that, he walks off to the form room, leaving me to ponder his words.

Arya POV

"Alright, off to assembly now everyone. Don't want to miss the seats and have to stand up through the whole thing now, do you?" says my form tutor. I can sympathise completely with Saphira's constant moaning over assemblies: they are utterly pointless. Why they haven't abolished them is beyond me or anyone for that matter.

"Assemblies. It's as if God created them to create absolute misery amongst school students." grumbles Rum, standing up gradually and adjusting his shirt.

"Too right bro. It's the same old bullcrap every time: useless reading about some useless subject, followed by useless notices and useless comments." Of course Raven would immediately join in on the chorus of complaints.

"Whingeing won't do anything about it. Just hurry up and move yourselves so that we can actually get a seat rather than having to stand up for twenty minutes. I'm fairly sure your flabby bodies would protest most fervidly against that." I tell them both, walking past them along with Saphira and Nirya.

"Might want to get some water for that burn boys!" shouts Saphira, as her and Nirya laugh loudly.

"We're not fat!" The boys both chorus in reply. I turn briefly to see them looking at their stomach area unsurprisingly, just out of sheer paranoia.

The school hall is bustling with activity as all the sixth form students file in and fill up the vacant seats. As I head down a row of seats, I spot Eragon, Murtagh and a few of their friends already sitting down on the same row. Murtagh nudges Eragon slightly and nods his head in my direction, causing Eragon to turn towards me too.

"Hey Arya." says Eragon as I sit down next to him.

"Hey. Looking forward to assembly then?"

"I think you already know the answer to that." he replies, pulling a grim face at my question. "It's as if they were created just to torture school pupils."

"Dude! My thoughts exactly!" shouts Raven, as he, Rum, Nirya and Saphira sit down on our row too.

"They're pretty damn pointless aren't they?" replies Eragon.

"Yeah. Hey wait, I know you. Eragon right?"

"Yeah, that's me." replies Eragon slowly, unsure as to how Raven knows who he is.

"I first saw you when you were unconscious and half naked." The whole row quietens at Raven's statement and I look at him, along with everyone else, with raised eyebrows. "…What? Oh right, sorry. That was a tad creepy."

"You're telling me." says Eragon, still with a bewildered look on his face.

"I meant when you had that accident and Arya brought you in to clean up your injuries. By the way, I'm Raven and that's Rum and Nirya. Saphira's already told us some stuff about you so I'm guessing you know her already." replies Raven.

"Got that right. So I take it you guys are part of the whole street-racing scene too, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Back to what I was saying, Arya basically had to patch you up and I helped out a bit." Unfortunately, Nirya then decides to open her mouth.

"Oh, I remember Rum telling me about this! Arya had to take off- Mmph!" I kick her leg roughly and glare heatedly at her.

"Take off what?" asks Eragon, looking at me suspiciously.

"Your hoodie. It was so we could tend to your injuries more easily." I reply smoothly, not missing a beat.

"Thing is though, it wasn't just your hoodie if you know what I'm saying." smirks Rum, joining the conversation too. A look of curiosity slides its way onto Eragon's face and he gestures Rum to elaborate.

"Rum…" I say in a low voice threateningly. "Mouth shut."

"Oh but this is so much fun Arykins!" adds Raven cheekily.

"If you so much as even whisper a single word, either of you…" Damn Raven for bringing this topic up! Trust him to be the instigator of all this.

"Guys, just spill the beans. What did she do?" interrupts Eragon, smiling fully now and his interest piqued.

"Basically, to check for any injuries on your torso, Arya had to take off your hoodie and top i.e. leave your upper body bare. She got flustered about it and then went completely red in the face. Still, it didn't stop her from admiring your-"

"Thanks Raven." I ground out. I can tell my ears and cheeks have gone beet red from embarrassment but to my surprise, while glancing in his direction quickly, so are Eragon's. I'm surprised he's not drinking up all the attention i.e. acting like a massive bellend, as other guys would normally be doing right now.

"Aww, is ickle Eragon all embarrassed?" teases Murtagh which earns him a thump in the arm from Eragon. "Shit! So violent man."

"You deserved it." says Eragon, glowering at him. His eyes then flicker momentarily towards me with some unreadable emotion, before darting away and facing the front of the hall.

"So." drawls Rum, breaking the silence that had settled after a few minutes. "This is awkward."

"You don't say?" I retort sarcastically while narrowing my eyes at him.

"Ah, come on Arya. Lighten up, we're only fooling around. You know you love it." he replies, grinning roguishly at me. The corners of my lips curl up involuntarily at his antics; despite being absolute pricks sometimes, I can't seem to stay angry at these guys for long.

"Alright, leave it out guys. Raven, I got a question for you." I whip my head towards Eragon who had spoken. He's been pretty quiet for the last few minutes come to think of it.

"Come at me bro." replies Raven, with a mock 'gangsta' look on his face.

"You are seriously weird. Whatever. I was gonna ask what's up between you and Nirya?" At first Eragon's question baffles me, before realisation dawns upon me and a smirk slides itself onto my face.

"Say what now?"

"I mean, you were practically checking out her behind when you were walking in-"

"He was _what_ now?" interrupts Nirya, giving Raven an icy stare.

"What- Just- No I wasn't! That's bull!" Now Raven's face has flushed too from becoming the centre of attention. I realise what Eragon had managed to do: he'd steered the conversation away from my embarrassment to a different topic. And, at the same time, got one back on Raven. Impressive and something I'm grateful for.

I tip my head at him slightly in thanks. He responds with a wink and before turning back to the discussion between him, Raven, Nirya. Once again, I find myself staring at his facial features a moment longer before turning away with a small smile settled on my face unintentionally.

However Saphira, who's been silently watching but laughing the whole time, catches the gentle expression on my face and stares at me knowingly, mouthing 'Talk. Later.' My expression instantly reverts to a bland one and I mouth back 'Whatever.' Scowling in response, she opens her mouth to mime again before a teacher calls for silence as assembly starts.

* * *

At lunchtime, Saphira manages to corner me as I sit down in our usual spot.

"Right. No getting out of it this time missy. What's with all the 'smiley smiley' around Eragon?" she asks, setting her tray down and sitting opposite me with an intense look on her face.

"First of all, I am not 'smiley smiley' around Eragon. I was simply grateful for his intervention during assembly; what's odd about that?"

"Don't give me that. It's-" Saphira's interrupted by Raven, Rum, Nirya, Murtagh, Eragon and Nasuada heading over to the table. She looks back at me sharply for a second, her face clearly saying 'This conversation is not over.'

"So Eragon. Decision yet or still mulling over it?" asks Murtagh, pointing at him with a chip which Eragon steals and eats for himself. "Oi! Hands off the goods." says Murtagh while covering his food.

"Your fault for making 'em easy to grab. And in answer to your question…" he trails off, causing everyone to lean forward except for myself. I continue to watch him with a calculated look. Secretly, I want him to join as watching him fully transition from sports to super car should be interesting and…

And he intrigues me: his background, his previous lifestyle, how quickly he's integrated himself into our friend circle and, most importantly, the fact that I befriended him so easily. He was just another stranger at first, yet events constantly seemed to pull us together: his first race and wreck, finding out he's an experienced street-racer, him attending the same school as I do and now it seems as if it will happen once more.

"Hold up, why am I so intrigued? I don't even know what the question is. Anyone care to tell me?" questions Raven, looking confused.

"No! Now shut up!" choruses everyone else while looking at him before turning back to Eragon rapidly. Raven just folds his arms in response and looks irritated.

"...is no." finishes Eragon. All of our faces turn to shock and even my eyes widen slightly in surprise. Everyone begins speaking at once.

"Why not?!"

"That ain't cool man!"

"Bullshit!" Suddenly, Eragon cracks up and starts laughing hysterically.

"Your faces! Oh God- you should've seen- them!" he manages to say in between breaths. By now he's doubled over and is resting his head on the table, holding his sides all the while.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hold on just _one freaking second_." says Murtagh suspiciously. "So does this mean…?"

"Yeah, I've made up my mind. I'll join your group, the Paladins." At this, Nasuada, Rum and Nirya crack a smile, Murtagh and Saphira holler in glee, understanding dawns upon Raven's face and I find myself full-on smiling too for once. The boys all then slap high-fives and everyone automatically advises him on what happens next, what to do and so on.

As everyone begins speaking though, Eragon's face remains trained on mine and mine on his. Eventually we both turn away, each with soft expressions on our faces. Life, I believe, might just have taken a good turn.

Eragon POV

God, that was _hilarious_. I even managed to surprise Arya; I saw her eyes widen, if only by a fraction.

I'd spent most of the day thinking over Nasuada's offer; in all honesty, I'd wanted to say yes immediately yesterday night. I almost had, if not for the rational side of me taking over and giving me time to consider her offer fully.

Does the worry of wrecking bother me? Yes, it does. Do I fear getting found out by Aunt Selena and Uncle Brom? You bet. But can I really say no to this opportunity? Say no to something which I'm addicted to? Say no to something which has been, is and always will be a part of my life? As if I would ever.

When I give them my real answer, they're ecstatic but I focus on one person only. Her flawless face reveals no visible reaction yet her emerald eyes seem to light up slightly, a small glint appearing in them. So she approves too then it seems.

We both turn away from each other's gazes at the same time and join separate conversations.

"You got a car then or not yet Eragon?" asks Rum, causing everyone to turn towards me once more.

"Nope. Gotta sort that out sometime soon. I'll ask my Uncle if I can use one of his since he has a sweet collection."

"Nice. What's he packing then?"

"An Aston V12, Chevrolet Corvette, Ford GT, an Aventador and a 458 Italia. Not sure which one I should go for though."

"It's obvious: the Italia."

"Don't be a fool Rum. I'd take a Ford GT any day over those other wimps." retorts Raven.

"I've heard some babies were dropped on their heads but you must've been thrown against the wall." replies Rum incredulously. "How could a Ford GT beat an Italia? It's a cumbersome troll versus an elegant work of art."

"The Ford's way more powerful though!"

"Power isn't everything!"

"You're just saying that since your Porsche is underpowered compared to everyone else's cars!"

"It's won more races than your Viper!"

"Because you practically rocket boost all the time!"

"Don't make up-"

"Guys! You're giving us all migraines here for heaven's sake. Cut it out." interrupts Nasuada, rubbing the temples of her head with her fingers.

"She's right. You guys might as well be human megaphones. 'They're off! I say, look at them go! Jolly fast blighters, eh?'" I say, making the shape of a funnel around my mouth. Everyone laughs at my 'commentator impression' while Rum, Raven and Arya just roll their eyes in amusement. "Question."

"Fire away." replies Murtagh.

"Who are the leaders of the groups then?" I ask, taking a bite out of an apple with a characteristic 'crunch'.

"You probably won't know any of these people but I'll tell you anyway. The Paladins' leader is a guy called Jormundur, the Smithies' is Orik, the Wardens' is a woman called Wylandriah and the Forsworn… the Forsworns' is a person known as 'Konungur.'"

"Konungur?"

"Means 'the King' in Icelandic apparently. The thing is, we don't actually know his identity; it could be a woman but the fact that their nickname is 'the King' implies it's a guy likely."

"So why is this person hiding their identity then? I don't see the point."

"That's the million quid question Eragon. We have no idea. He's never showed up to any races or meetings, or anything to be honest."

"A lot of us are starting to consider the possibility that this 'Konungur' doesn't actually exist and that the Forsworn have no leader, just a group of sub-leaders instead. Then again, we can't be too sure I suppose." adds Nasuada, a thoughtful look appearing on her face.

"But how did this person come to be known as 'the King' if he or she has never participated in any races?" I ask. "I'm becoming more and more sceptical about this shady figure."

"Apparently he's the best in the Forsworn and, as you saw last night, they're pretty damn good: they have quality drivers and high-end cars; that's not to say we suck or something, just that they're up there. So if this person is the best of their best, then he or she must be damn good enough to be called 'King'. And we didn't come up with the name, the Forsworn did which shows what snobby dicks they are." answers Murtagh. "My guess is that this 'King' thinks he or she is too good for us and doesn't bother to show."

"Mm. Interesting." I decide to change the subject and ask a question I've wanted to know the answer to for a while now. "So what groups are you all in? Any of you sub-leaders?" Murtagh opens his mouth to answer but Saphira cuts him off.

"We won't tell you that easily. Work your way up a bit Eragon, then we might." She adds a wink at the end while taking a sip of her drink. So that's how it's gonna be then, eh?

"Alright, fine. I like a challenge." I smirk in response, before abruptly dropping my head as exhaustion washes over me. I didn't exactly get a decent night's sleep: I just felt too awake after the race. After a lot of futile tossing and turning, I don't think I actually fell asleep until half past midnight.

Suddenly there's a pair of fingers clicking in front of my face; I try to grab them but my sluggish reactions cause to me simply swipe at the air.

"Too slow Ery. You need some serious shut-eye." says Saphira. "What have you got next?"

"Erm. General Studies I think. I might just nap in that since it's utter shite." Murmurs of agreement go around the table. It's safe to say General Studies might just be the most hated subject in the whole of England.

"That's not likely to happen Eragon. The sixth form have a talk in the hall for General Studies." interrupts Arya, a small smirk on her face. I groan and drop my head on the table.

"You're joking?" I reply with a muffled voice.

"Me? Joking? Are you sure you're not ill?"

"Eh, good point. Well, there goes nap time." I'm about to speak again but I suddenly yawn and the bell goes. Getting up, we all dump our trays and head to our respective forms.

* * *

The end of the day seems to come quickly, although not quick enough for me.

During the General Studies talk, I was once again seated next to Arya in the hall but also Murtagh and all the others. I paid hardly any attention to the speaker, not because I didn't want to but because I couldn't! On one side of me, I had Murtagh winking at me, while gesturing to Arya who was on the other side. I couldn't stop glancing at her every so often and her scent was driving me insane; I had to stop myself unconsciously inhaling it several times. To top it all off, I kept nodding off and guess who kept nudging me awake? Bloody Arya, that's who! Arya of all people! She'd stay facing the front but subtly extend her elbow to jab my side. And it was clear she was getting a right laugh out of it from the tiny smile that managed to work its way onto her face eventually; I have a feeling Saphira may have put her up to this, judging by her failed efforts to stifle her laughter. Still, I got some fun out of it too by pretending to fall asleep and then block Arya's elbow every so often to piss her off.

I shake my head at the memory, a grin tugging its way onto my lips.

"So, had fun in the last lesson then I see?" says Murtagh, sauntering over to the bike shed. "Next thing you know, you and Arya will be- What?" I start making a 'cut it out' motion with my hand as I spot Arya walking over.

"What are you doing? Like I was saying, soon you and Arya will be doing some- Eragon, what the fuck are you trying to say?" By now my eyes have widened and I subtly try to indicate behind him, where Arya now is. "Wait. Don't tell me… she's right behind me isn't she?" He spins around. "H-Hey Arya. We were- I was just- you know, I'm just gonna leave now yeah?"

"That would probably be for the best concerning your physical health." replies Arya coldly, arms crossed in front of her chest in a very intimidating pose. He grabs his bike and cycles off while yelling "Keep it PG guys!"

"I swear, I'm gonna kick his arse one day if he doesn't let up…" I growl out, cracking my knuckles for effect.

"Can you actually fight then? As in, have you learned martial arts?" she asks, a slight hint of curiosity in her expression.

"My cousin used to teach me kickboxing for a while before he left for university. He taught me for a while, about 6 months or so I think. I'd like to think I'm pretty decent."

"Don't get too cocky now."

"You already scared the cocky one off a few seconds ago."

"True."

"So why are you at the bike shed? I thought you have your own ride? I hate to break it you but two people can't fit on this bike, as much as I wouldn't mind giving you a ride back." I grin at her cheekily while trying to gauge her reaction. She raises her eyebrow in response but with a small smile on her face too. Safe.

"Such a gentleman I see."

"It is but one of my many charms, milady." I reply with a sweeping bow. She bites her bottom lip at this, silently laughing, and I just about faint. With her current pose, she looks unbelievably gorgeous; my eyes take on a mind of their own and rake her figure up and down, landing on her eyes in the end. Resisting my body's urges, I tear my eyes from hers and quickly turn to my bike, my back now facing her. Please say she didn't notice or I am so dead. "So what did you come over here for then?" I ask while fiddling with my bike lock. I hear the clap of her shoes as she walks around to face me once more.

"I wanted to know if you could come down to Copthome Tara Hotel tomorrow, at around six if possible?"

"Why there?"

"It's the Warden's base but, more importantly, it has a sizeable underground car park which we use to practice various racing techniques, such as drifting."

"So you guys want to test me or something?"

"It's more to grasp what level you're truly at, before establishing how much training you need or could benefit from."

"How do you know I'm not good enough already?"

"Watching the race last night gave us an idea where you're at relative to us. You're skilled Eragon, I will definitely say that much, but there's room for improvement."

"Ouch. But I'll be there, don't worry. Any chance to improve my racing techniques is worth it for sure." I unlock my bike and pack the chain into my bag, silence having descended upon us. "So you're in the Wardens I take it then?"

"Nice try Eragon. You won't find out that easily."

"Worth a shot." I say in response, wondering just how good she is in a car. "I'll see you tomorrow then. Later."

"See you Eragon." She turns to leave before abruptly stopping and pulling out a piece of paper from one of her jacket's pockets. "I almost forgot: here's a list of our mobile numbers." I take the paper with my fingers brushing hers in the process, triggering a slight jolt to run through me and my face to turn warm. _'Talk about having velvety skin'_ I think to myself. Glancing at her, I see that she's turned away slightly towards my bike and I'm sure her cheeks have small spots of redness on them.

"Thanks. I'll text you guys so you can add my number too."

"No problem and that would be good, thanks." She nods at me briefly before once again turning and heading off. I watch her receding figure, managing to avert my eyes from her hips with some difficulty. Scanning the paper, I flick through all the numbers until my eyes come to rest on one in particular: Arya's. My lips automatically curl up and I add the numbers to my phone, before beginning to cycle home with my fatigue mysteriously washed away all of a sudden.

Unknown POV

"Sir." It seems Baral has finally come to report. "I-"

"I've been told you lost your race yesterday night Baral."

"I almost had him! A minor slip caused me to-" I cut off his desperate babbling with a sharp wave of my hand.

"Calm down my boy. You still came second and that is certainly no embarrassment in itself." He gulps in anxiety. "What of the shipments more importantly?"

"A fresh batch of white arrived today from Europe and some of the new machines came too, models from Horse and Bull."

"Good. Good… And the purchases have been confirmed, yes?"

"They… They still want to negotiate on price sir but I have the utmost confidence-"

"I do not care about your damned confidence! Tell the others to get the merchandise sold and done with! Has your empty head forgotten the consequences of holding onto these 'items' for long periods of time? Just think what happened to your brother." I grin darkly at him, watching his face contort in a mixture of angst and anger.

"Y-Yes sir. It will be done. Anything else or may I be dismissed?"

"No, you may leave but be sure to relay any troubles to Durza if the buyers refuse to cooperate. As you know, he is more than… _capable_ of getting a deal." He nods before walking out hurriedly, his face pale as a sheet at the mention of Durza. My mobile rings a second later; I look at the caller ID before answering.

"Yes?" I ask, an undertone of interest in my voice at seeing who the caller was.

_"I have some interesting news you may want to hear."_

"Really? Do tell my old friend."

_"A new boy has been spotted entering the racing scene. Apparently he has brown hair, brown eyes and is fairly tall at about 6 feet. What's fascinating is he's no newbie to cars or street racing: he beat Jyrik easily a few nights ago but it ended with an accident when Jyrik called the cops on him."_

"Imbecile. Somebody teach Jyrik a lesson; the fool is one day going to rain hell down on us if he keeps this up."

_"My sentiments exactly; I'll send someone to deal with him. Back on topic, the boy came out fine but now seems to have joined one of the other groups. I can't say which but he's most definitely in one of them, having completed another race yesterday evening in which he came third out of five. I feel we should keep eyes on him if he continues to appear at events. Suggestions?"_

"Agreed. Have someone tag him at race events. Thank you for informing me Morzan."

Hmm. Morzan also recently told me that Brom's nephew moved in at the same time this 'boy' began to appear. Of course Brom only has one nephew: Roran, who's at university currently. What games are you playing old man? I wonder… have you finally found that which you thought to have lost by my hand?

* * *

**And end for now. 10 points for anyone who can guess what 'white', 'new machines', 'horse' and 'bull' really mean… Once again, hope you enjoyed and review if you can. As always, it's much appreciated when you guys do. It's what really kicked my hide into getting this finished. Next chapter will have some car action in it for sure.**

**Notes:-  
-Sixth form is equivalent to Junior and Senior years in highschool for you USA people. (It's when your 17-18 basically so I might be wrong about highschool… it could be college. Dunno, correct me if I'm wrong.)  
-Bellend = slang for an annoying person, an insult basically. Same for 'tosser'.  
-Quid = english slang for one pound sterling.  
-Shite = shit basically, another english thing.**


	10. Memories Revisited

**Alright, next one up. Time to see some car action… Enjoy and review as always. I'm hoping I can eventually get 100 followers and around 60-70 favourites as the story goes on, it's a target for me. We'll see. A big thanks to everyone who's favourited and is following now, as well as for the constant flurry of reviews every chapter. It's really appreciated people and I hope you continue reviewing.  
One reason why this is late (…again) is that Unrivaled Mind and I have been working on an AU Inheritance fic. It's up now and hopefully a good read. Look out for it under the author 'Unrivaled Dragon Slayer' (imaginative name, eh?); it should be called 'Under a New Banner'. **

** Dill Dragon: Cheers for the review. You're right in horse having something to do with cars but not white. One person's been able to guess right so far ;) And Islanzadi is a parent, so she's not really in a street racing crew. Also she's an adult, middle-aged, etc. I didn't think it would fit too well. But she will certainly have somewhat more of a role later on.  
Evatross: Okay, will do. Sorry for the delay, please don't hurt me…?**

Chapter 10 - Memories Revisited

Murtagh POV

"Yo Dad, I'm home." I say, stepping through the door. Silence greets me. He's probably working away, as always. I shake my head, annoyed at his usual lack of presence, and head towards his study. I'm about to knock but I stop just before my knuckles hit the door as I overhear him talking on the phone.

_"…in which he came third out of five. I feel we should keep an eye on him if he continues to appear at events. Suggestions?"_ All goes quiet and I hear him put his mobile down. Wonder what that's all about; probably something work related I bet. I knock a couple of times before turning the door knob and entering.

"Ah, Murtagh. Back from school I see. I'm rather busy right now though," he says while pointing to the display of papers scattered on his desk, "so make it quick please." Figures. No time for me… as always.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm going out tomorrow again at around six. That cool with you?" Before I'd even finished speaking, he'd already turned back to his laptop and papers. He waves his hand nonchalantly in acceptance.

"Yes, yes. Of course. Just be back by midnight then s- okay?" Walking out, I begin trudging up the stairs to my room, ignoring his falter on the word 'son'.

Son. I stopped being his son years ago…

_I'd been out that night, hanging around with a few friends and having a few drinks - illegally. This was before I'd moved to Kensington and I was only 14. I was supposed to be home by midnight but looking at the clock as I stumbled through the front door, it was one already._

_"Nads. I hope Dad's asleep." _

_"No. He's not." I whipped around to see him standing there with his arms crossed. And boy did he look pissed. "I told you to be back at midnight. You're an hour late son."_

_"Oh, I'm so sorry. Wait, no I'm not." I retorted sarcastically, my words laced with venom. _

_"Do not speak to me like that! Why are you late? I gave you a strict deadline and you broke it. Explain yourself."_

_"Why the fuck should I?"_

_"Don't you dare use that language with me young man! Now answer me." _

_"Whatever. It's not like you give a _shit_ about me anyway." I retorted, emphasising the swear word to annoy him further. A second later, I felt his hand connect with my cheek. He'd slapped me. _

_Putting a finger to the corner of my lips, I immediately felt liquid there and a metallic taste entered my mouth as I licked at it. We'd had these fights so many times before; I'd lost count by now. It always ended up the same way: me coming home late after drinking a bit, him raging, us arguing and eventually physical punishment. Like what happened just now. _

_"Go to your room and get to sleep." He pointed upstairs with a quivering finger, vibrating with fury. I was about to move but a wave of anger washed over me and I opened my mouth instead. _

_"You know, I can see why Mum left." His angered face twitched in reaction. _

_"I said-"_

_"Why would she want to stay around someone like you? You don't care about me, her or anyone! Only yourself, you selfish piece of crap!"_

_"Hold your damn tongue! Your mother was a bloody whore - she left to be with some other man! She's the one who's selfish, not caring about leaving us alone. Now shut up and get upstairs, before I throw you into your bedroom!" I felt tears prickle my eyelashes. He called her a whore. My mum. A whore. _

_No. He was clearly lying. "Don't you lie about her! She was a million times the person you were, are and ever will be! I hate you! I fucking loathe you! You never were my father and you never will be! Just rot in hell." With the tirade over, I ran past his angered face, now lined with astonishment, and into my bedroom while slamming the door shut. _

_I remember my last thought that night, as I stuffed my face into my pillow, being 'Mum… I wish you were here.'_

I snap out of my trance, realising I'd been standing outside my room with my hand resting on the door knob. Clearing my mind of the memory, I head inside and dump my jacket and bag on a chair while lying down on my bed. I feel seriously tired after school today for some reason.

As expected, my eyes begin to droop before eventually closing altogether and sleep taking me…

_A five year old me poked his head around the corner to Mum and Dad's room, having heard the yelling from down the hall. Instantly, his eyes filled with fear and apprehension at the sight of his parents' feud._

_"What do you think you're doing Selena? You can't just leave!"_

_"Just you watch me Morzan. And I'll be taking my son with me."_

_"I don't think so. He'll be staying safe with me." _

_"Safe? Don't make me laugh. You'll soon find yourself presented with a court order for sole physical custody of him as well as a set of divorce papers."_

_"Good luck with that. I do happen to own a legal firm and be a lawyer, in case you happened to have forgotten this small fact."_

_"Then I will fight with all my soul for him, something you can't do since you sold yours to that devil Galbatorix!"_

_"Now just-"_

_"No! You listen to me: you're a monstrosity. I can't believe you'd sink so low and think to do such a thing! All for power?! Higher status?! 'For a greater cause'?!" Her tone lowered to a whisper suddenly and my five year old self was unable to make out her harsh words._

_"Because I did what I had to do! I had to protect this family: you and Murtagh. If I didn't go through with his plan, _he_ would have sent for someone to-"_

_"If you hadn't entangled yourself so deeply in this 'business' in the first place, you wouldn't have needed to protect us! You trapped yourself, along with your family too, in this web of illegal dealings and trade. Is money and power all that's ever on your mind? Did you not think of our son at all? Did you not think that Galbatorix could use him as leverage?! I was willing to wait this all out, to hope that some good could come of this. To support you Morzan."_

_"Then continue to do so. Please Selena. Good will come out of this: I promise you that."_

_"It's far too late for that. I can only hope you haven't corrupted our son by filling his heart with such hate and violence as yours contains." She looked away for a moment before returning to his face with a look of pure sorrow. "And to think I once told you I loved you… I have wondered to myself these past few months Morzan, wondered how I did not see past your façade of affection when we first met. Wondered how I did not see the raw desire for power lying in your eyes until it was too late. Wondered why I did not leave with my son years ago…"_

_"Because you still love me and I love you. You still care for me and I do-"_

_"Stop. Stop with the lies. I _despise_ you. I hate you for fooling me with your charms and I hate having shared any of my life with you! Go to hell Morzan and may you burn there forever." She turned to the door only to see my small form standing there, tears threatening to spill over from his eyes. She rushed towards him, gathering him in her arms tightly. _

_"I… I have to leave Murtagh. But only for a while; I promise I'll return as soon as I can. Be good-"_

_"Why are you angry at Dad?" He asked, looking at him. "You and Dad have fought loads now. Many times over the past weeks. Why do you guys fight so much?" Tears filled her eyes too at his question and they fell quickly down her face at the same time his did._

_"You don't need to know right now dear. Just be good and know that Mummy loves you very much. So, so much. I'll be back for you." Kissing him lightly on the forehead, she wiped his tears away with her thumbs and pulled away. She grabbed her suitcase and purse before heading downstairs to the front door. _

_"Who will you be staying with then?" asked Dad in quiet voice._

_"A friend's house. He-They offered me a place to stay if I ever needed it." Dad caught the slip up of the word 'he' and his fists clenched tightly. _

_The door opened and Mum gave a last look at the five year old me before walking out. Walking out of my life forever. _

I shoot up from the bed, a hand instantly coming to my face and feeling the sweat on my forehead.

It may have been thirteen years ago but that night has been permanently scarred in my dreams and memories forever. Although, come to think of it, I'd stopped having this nightmare for a while... Why the hell has it started up again? Why now? And why could I not clearly remember the face of my mum? Throughout the whole memory, my mother's face was always a blur and the only feature I could clearly make out was her cool, grey eyes.

I drop back onto the bed and stare silently at the ceiling for a few minutes.

'Screw this…' I think to myself and grab my laptop, randomly surfing the internet to take my mind off all these memories.

* * *

School the next day is pretty much, well, normal. There's the usual banter at lunchtime and in lessons, homework being dished out and, of course, the unending teasing of Eragon and Arya. I think I'm seriously starting to get on his nerves now. The more, the merrier is all I can say.

I arrive back at home and open the front door, making my presence known to Dad once again. Except, this time, there's no response.

Walking over to his study, I rip off the post-it note on the door and read over it rapidly. 'Will be late from work tonight. Be back at around 11-12. Dad.'

Figures. It's not like I care anyway. I scrunch up the note in my hand and I'm about to head into the kitchen before realising the door is slightly ajar. The reason this strikes out at me is that Dad _rarely_ leaves his study door unlocked.

With curiosity getting the better of me, I slowly push the door open and step inside. It's looks the same as when I went in yesterday i.e. pretty dull in all honesty: a simple desktop computer and monitor furnish the desk, two or three filing cabinets line the wall and some boxes take up the rest of the space. I turn to leave, wondering why I even went in here the first place, but suddenly stop as something catches my eye in one of the open boxes. Once again, curiosity overwhelms me. Walking over to it, I lift the flaps of the box fully open and take out one of many packets lying in it. The packet is labelled 'White 09A' and is filled with white powder. What the…

Thousands of questions instantly swamp my mind and I feel the blood drain from my face. My eyes widen with shock and I feel my hands begin to tremble faintly. I drop the packet back into the box, as if feeling tainted just by touching it, and close the flaps quickly. Rushing out, I make sure to leave the door slightly open as it was before and thunder up the stairs to my room, shutting and locking my door. My hands snap to my phone instantly and enter 911 into the keypad.

But my thumb hovers over the green 'call' button. What if it's not crack which I've assumed it is? What if-

Suddenly, the phone falls limp from my hands though, clattering on the floor as four words flash in my mind from one of the memories I had earlier today. '_Illegal dealings and trade._'

Did Mum leave because… because Dad was drug trafficking?

Arya POV

"Arya, where you going at this time of night?" I sigh deeply and turn around to see my mother looking at me expectantly by the living room entrance.

"Out mother, like I always do. I really don't see the point of you asking this every day."

"Me too! Wait up sis." shouts Firnen, scrambling down the stairs and leaping down the last five steps.

I raise one of my eyebrows at him before turning back to my mother. "I'll be back at around midnight, likely earlier."

"That's fine but where exactly-"

"Iz, just let her go already. She's old enough to stay safe, you know that." I smile briefly at my Dad for his words, giving him and mum a small hug, before heading out the front door. As I close it and turn around though, a loud 'thud' sounds, followed by a person yelling "My fucking nose!" I automatically smirk and turn around, waiting for my adopted-brother to stagger outside.

"Sis! Why'd you close the god damn door?! You knew I was coming outside…" he groans, clutching his nose with one hand. At the sight of him I burst out laughing and he eventually joins in too, chuckling along with me. It's quite odd actually: only whenever I'm with Firnen or my father do I truly let my guard down. With my mother it's a little tenser, to say the least. She's always been a bit _too_ motherly and Dad has always had to step in to give me some freedom.

"Which is exactly why I shut it. It's your fault for assuming the door was still open, dear brother of mine."

"Whatever. I'll get you back, just you wait; you'll never see it coming."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that Firnen."

"Annoying woman…" he grumbles in response, to which I once again smirk at. We carry on walking, heading towards the High Street. He coughs suddenly, giving me a sly look. "But tell me, what's this story Saphira's been telling me about you and your new Year 12 boyfriend?" I instantly freeze, turning and glaring at him intently.

"_What_?!" I reply icily. Saphira… she'd better not have spread this idiotic rumour around. I'll most definitely be having words with her tonight. He grins openly at my response so I decide to turn things around.

"Maybe," I reply in an off-handed manner throwing him off-guard, "_but tell me_, what's this I hear about you and Saphira getting together?" He starts stuttering immediately, looking for something to say. "Yeah, as I thought. So shut it, mister." We reach the High Street and Firnen turns right as I turn left. Looking at him curiously, I silently ask where he's going.

"I'm meeting up with some mates at the pub. Might pop in later to the Warden's base, I'll see." I frown slightly at his answer. He was the only one out of my family who drinks casually; everyone else, including myself, only drinks on social occasions and events. Still, he's 18 and therefore an adult and legally able to drink now, so he's responsible enough I'd say.

"Alright, just don't come home too inebriated or mother will have a fit, likely one of rage." He winks in response only while turning away and walking off. "I mean it Firnen!"

He waves a hand in the air saying "Yeah, yeah…" in response. I scowl at his retreating form before walking off in the opposite direction. Moronic brother.

I take a quick glance at my watch, seeing that I've another twenty minutes to burn before heading to the hotel. Spotting a nearby bench, I head over to it and sit down, crossing one leg over the other knee, while pulling out my iPod and putting it on shuffle. 'Moves Like Jagger' by Maroon 5 comes on and I turn up the volume before locking my iPod.

As the music surrounds my ears, I enter a semi-relaxed state and random thoughts begin to flitter in my head.

Faolin used to love this song… No. Don't go there Arya, change the subject. I quickly flick to the next song: 'Awake and Alive' by Skillet. Yet another song Faolin liked. I yank my earphones out, frustrated at bringing back these memories, and sit in silence with the bustling of Kensington's night in the background. I turn my head to the side and gaze absent-mindedly at the various stores lining the street, along with the cars driving by…

_"Miss, you need to step back. Please."_

_"My friends are in that wreck, damn it! Let me through!"_

_"Miss! The paramedics and firemen are working to get them out. Just stay behind the police line like everyone else or I'll have someone restrain you. So get back, please."_

_The familiar silver Mercedes SLR McLaren lay overturned, now crumped all over and grossly distorted. I stared in dread as they hacked at the bent doors with axes before ripping them off and pulling two bloodied bodies out, cuts all over them and pieces of metal shrapnel from the car stuck in their chests and legs. Two paramedics immediately checked for breathing and a pulse in both of them. _

_They both slowly stood up simultaneously, turning to each other and shaking their heads. They then laid a white cover over their lifeless forms to shield them from public view. _

_The two seventeen year olds were dead. _

_The sixteen year old me clamped her hands over her mouth at the sight of this and stumbled back unsteadily, collapsing onto the cold, hard ground with her knees pulled to her chest. For the first time in over 8 years, two glittering tears rolled down her face and under her chin, her raven hair falling down to cover her grief-stricken face. _

_Suddenly she looked up, her eyes taking on a solid look as she remembered the shady face of the grinning driver who sped off, just as she arrived onto the scene of the incident and police cars, along with ambulances and fire trucks, started filing in. His car, an Ascari A10, had a few small depressions in the front parts of its bodywork, implying he had purposefully rammed into the SLR. _

_Yet all she had to go on _was_ the mysterious man's shady face: she had no idea of his hair colour, facial hair, eye colour, ethnicity and so on. All she made out, by the light in his car, was his malicious grin and almost deadly-white skin under the hood of his jacket, as he sat in his car before escaping. She didn't know the colour of the Ascari and hadn't been able to make out the number plate in the night, since it was far enough from any streetlights; the only giveaway that it even was an Ascari had been its unique headlight pattern._

_The sixteen year old just sat there on the unforgiving surface, her resolve strengthening. She promised herself that day that she would find this man… and make him suffer for his crimes. _

I blink rapidly as I return to reality. That was two years ago but the culprit had yet to be found. And it was that day that I apparently became extremely closed off, turning from the care-free, outgoing teenager to the silent, thoughtful young adult. Saphira, Firnen and my father are the only people with whom I really 'open up', so to speak.

Yet my thoughts snap to someone else at that line of thought. Him. In the few days that he's been in my life, he's managed to draw out more of myself than I thought possible. I find myself smiling more, the urge to laugh now more frequent and naturally taking a more active role in casual conversations.

I sigh deeply, trying to rid myself of these thoughts, before getting up and deciding to make my way to the Warden's base. As I walk there, my thoughts are still partially occupied by him and I begin to wonder how much learning he has to do: does he know about different ways to initiate a drift? When to use the handbrake? At what revs and in which gear to use nitrous? Hopefully he has some knowledge basis otherwise this might take a few nights.

Walking towards the Warden's garage, I input the unlock code and head inside the unlit room. The moonlight reflects off some of the cars' bodywork inside, showing off their sleek curves and making them appear menacing in the dark. Unperturbed by this, I roll back down the garage door and proceed down the stairs to the underground car park - I say car park, yet it's actually used extensively to practice drifting by the Wardens, Paladins and Smithies.

As soon as I reach the lower levels, the sound of screeching tyres, cheering and roaring exhausts fills my ears. But as soon as I open the door, that noise amplifies at least tenfold, likely deafening my ears if I wasn't used to it by now.

Rolling my eyes at the antics of some of the boys from the different groups, I look around for Saphira, Eragon or the others. In the end, I just pull my phone out and text Saphira.

_**At the car park. Where are u guys? It's pretty busy today**_

_We're in the SE corner, by the pillar with a D on it. And yeah, it's jam packed_

_**Alright, I'll head over. Is Eragon here yet?**_

_Wouldn't you like to know ;)_

_**You're unbelievable sometimes…**_

_Why thank you_

_**As well as being incredibly annoying**_

_Now that's just plain rude :P_

_**I know**_

_And you say I'm unbelievable… _

I smile in amusement at her response before walking towards pillar D and, sure enough, the 'gang' is there as well as Eragon to my surprise. For some reason, I expected him to be late.

One person I didn't expect to be late though is Murtagh: he was nowhere to be seen. I quickly voiced my concern to the rest of the group once I'd walked over and greeted them all.

"I was wondering the same thing in fact." replied Nasuada, a very anxious look settling on her face. "He's not normally one to miss out on the fun." She pulls her phone out abruptly, staring intently at the screen. "That was him. He says he won't be able to come tonight due to…" She falters slightly, her mouth pursed in uncertainty almost. "Due to family issues."

"Family issues?" asks Eragon, clearly just as confused as the rest of us.

"Well, let's not waste any time. Eragon." interrupts Saphira, spinning to face Eragon. "There's an Evo X over there and that's going to be your learning vehicle today." Eragon continues to stand in front of Saphira, thinking she has more to say. Instead she claps her hands, making him jump slightly. "Go on then, hop in you numbskull."

"No need to get snappy now." he says in response, smirking at her before getting in the car. Eragon starts it up, the low thrum of the engine rumbling in the background.

"First things first. Let's see some donuts. You can manage that at least, right?"

"Coming right up." replies Eragon, a tinge of arrogance colouring his voice. I crack a smirk at his response: just wait till you get to the hard stuff Eragon.

Eragon POV

Donuts: piece of piss.

I turn the steering wheel and push the clutch in, revving the engine to just before the red line on the tach. Simultaneously letting the clutch out while jamming the accelerator down, I feel the car suddenly whirl into life as the back end begins to spin around. I flick the steering wheel left and right slightly, while still having it fully turned to the left almost, to begin controlling the spin speed.

Looking out the window, I grin at the others as I rotate on the spot and the smell of burning rubber fills the air. The car rotates a bit too fast to my liking, so I alternate between the gas being about three-quarters and fully pressed down every second roughly to slow it down.

Saphira makes a gesture with her hand to stop so I let off the gas and allow the car to come to a halt.

"Not too dizzy are we?" she says, walking over and leaning on the window frame of the door.

"Nah. You'd have to be a right pussy to be get dizzy after a few donuts. What's next then, teach?"

"Wheel spin. Let's see some static rubber burning."

With the steering wheel straight, I pull the handbrake up and push the clutch in before ramming the throttle to high revs around the red line once more. After dumping the clutch sharply, the effect is instant: both back tyres lose traction, squealing and spinning rapidly with puffs of smoke being produced. Again Saphira gestures for me to stop.

"Good and I'm guessing you know how to prevent wheel spin right?"

"Clutch control." I answer swiftly.

"Correct. Alright, let's see. Arya, you got anything for Eragon?" says Saphira, suddenly turning to her. She narrows her eyes suddenly at Arya, before a flicker of recognition seems to pass over her face. What was that all about?

Arya's facing away from her so she misses the look Saphira gives her, instead pursing her lips for a second and looking at a different part of the car park. Her eyes light up momentarily a second later.

"Pendulum. Do you know how to do that?" she says abruptly, turning to face me in the car. I look at her blankly in response. "It's where you drift into an S-curve and change the direction of your drift as you exit the first corner. It should be simple enough to learn for someone of your ability."

"Alright, knowledge me teach."

* * *

For the next ten mintutes or so, Saphira and Arya had me drift through a chicane, allowing me to alternate the direction using my own technique at first. When they put me on an S-curve though, things got pretty ugly in terms of my driving ability.

I spun out horrendously on the first attempt while trying to change my drift direction. This was shortly accompanied by the echoes of Saphira's and Raven's laughter at my failure, along with Arya cracking her usual smirk and Nasuada, Rum and Nirya stifling a laugh or too as well.

Jerks.

Eventually, they all manage to calm down and Arya comes over to tell me how exactly the pendulum works.

"As soon as you exit the first corner while drifting, you need to release the throttle sharply but immediately reapply it and maintain it. And make sure you don't delay in returning to the throttle, Eragon, otherwise you'll spin out as the back end pivots too far in the opposite direction. Everyone tends to make this mistake early on so don't be too hard on yourself if you end up in a plume of smoke the first few times. Got it?" As I open my mouth to reply, I find my lips have gone dry. Her face is only a couple of inches away from mine as she leans on the driver's door awaiting my confirmation, her eyes once again the centre of my attention.

They take me captive every time I look at them, their emerald shade like a torrent of molten green fire. She pulls away sharply as I respond finally by nodding, glancing at me once before refusing to look in my direction for some reason.

I can't help but be baffled by her change in demeanour. Do I have some sort of effect on her, like the one she has on me maybe?

No way. No chance in hell Eragon; you've dropped back into coo-coo land. Focus on driving and get your head straight.

Lining up for another run at the S-curve, I run over Arya's instructions in my mind once again: it's all about throttle control. Go time. Gunning the accelerator, the Evo picks up speed rapidly even with the turbo lag and as the first corner approaches I brake harshly while shifting down to third at about 50mph. As the weight transfers to the back of the car, I yank the steering wheel to the left, breaking traction and starting the drift around the tight first part of the 'S'.

As the car exits the corner, I release the throttle and feel the back end swing wide in the other direction. Wider than it should have though. I did exactly what Arya said I would end up doing: delaying.

The back end whips right round, halting the car in its tracks and, of course, creating a few plumes of smoke billowing from the back tyres. Ah, shit.

The same thing happens for the next five or so attempts but every time I feel the delay time shortening, as I get back on the throttle faster each time. On the sixth run, I finally land it.

Just as I exit the corner once again, I lay off the throttle but this time snap to it almost instantly, flicking the steering wheel in the opposite direction moments later. And it all fits together perfectly: the back end changes direction just enough, without arcing out completely, and the car continues to drift, now in the other way. Skidding around the second corner of the 'S', I straighten out and bring the car to a stop.

"Textbook. Well done Eragon." applauds Nasuada, walking over with the others.

"I think even Arya's impressed and, take it from us, she ain't ever impressed. By anyone." says Rum next, grinning away.

"No Rum, I'm just never impressed by your so called 'mad skills' which usually turn out to be you sliding into the side of another car or building." replies Arya, giving him a cool look before turning to me. "And that was great but practice makes perfect Eragon: another few times."

"Yes miss." I mock salute, teasing her and causing her to roll her eyes, before lining up for another run. Each run is successful, giving me more confidence for successive ones. Unfortunately, it gives me a bit more bravado as well and on one of the runs I try drift at a much higher speed of 70mph. It's not hard to guess how that turned out.

Plumes of smoke galore. And don't forget the laughter of the others at my failure at an attempt to show off. Saphira staggers over, almost stumbling over her own two feet as fits of giggles rack her body.

"Eragon, there's-" she cuts off, erupting in a fresh batch of snickers and mirth before continuing. "There's a reason why S-curves exist: to slow drivers down. It's a feat in itself to drift through one at 50mph but at 70mph? Even we can't accomplish that except on lucky, one-off occasions. 70mph plus is for pros only."

"Well, it was worth a shot. A shitty shot at that but worth it nonetheless." I glance around the car park, noticing it's emptied quite a bit since I first arrived. "Everyone's kinda left. Is it because it's late?"

"It's 10:30 now so everyone's likely gone out for some drinks or just returned home to get some sleep." replies Arya, walking over to the car as well. "I think we're done for tonight. Can you make it tomorrow, same time, same place?"

"I think so." I reply slowly as I get out the car, chucking the keys to Saphira and considering how Uncle Brom might react. "I'll check with my Uncle, I think he should be cool with it though."

"Good." Her eyebrows furrow in concentration suddenly. "I have an idea actually concerning your 'training'. When we all first joined the Paladins and the Wardens, there used to be a man called Oromis Fraser who trained us further and improved our racing skills and abilities. He's an ex-Le Mans racer and used to participate in several drifting competitions before that, both nationally and internationally. The reason he started teaching new recruits is because his niece, Wylandria Fraser who's currently head of the Wardens as you know, somehow managed to pull some strings with him after she had been a member for a few months. When she first asked him, apparently it was out of the question. Then he started coming along to a few race nights and seemed to warm to the idea before eventually accepting.

All went smoothly for a year but suddenly he stopped teaching, telling us it was starting to bring back too many painful memories he'd repressed from his racing career. And he left, never to come back.

I was considering-"

"Arya, it's not possible." interrupted Saphira, an exasperated look on her face. "It's pointless! Everyone tried so hard to make him stay but in the end he was having none of it. What makes you think he'll train Eragon as a one-off?"

"That's just it though. It will only be a one-off and hopefully he can be persuaded to do so. I'll talk to Wylandriah tonight and see what she can do."

"Sounds awesome. With any luck, the guy will come around and I can get some serious training in. Thanks Arya." I say, getting excited by the prospect of an ex-professional racer giving me coaching.

"It's no problem. The thought just popped into my head." She flashes me a quick smile before gesturing towards the car park exit with her head. "I take it your heading home now?"

"Yeah, I'll get some shut-eye for school. See you guys tomorrow then."

"Bye Ery, sweet dreams." I stick my tongue out at Saphira in response to her condescending tone before turning to Arya.

"Goodnight Eragon. Remember: same time, same place tomorrow. Don't forget." she says, curt but an almost playful tone in her words. I nod at her, smirking in response as well.

"Seriously don't, Eragon. She'll drag you here herself if you do forget." adds Saphira, before they both turn around and walk towards a set of doors in the distance.

"I wouldn't mind that to be honest…" I mutter to myself, thinking they wouldn't hear. Yet the moment the words leave my mouth, Arya whips her head back towards me with one of her elegant eyebrows raised. Whoops.

I quickly pull my hood up and briskly walk towards the exit, not daring to look back at her face. Great going Eragon.

Saphira's POV

"So how exactly- Arya. Arya, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing." she quietly says in response, turning her attention back to me from somewhere behind her.

"Never mind then. As I was saying, how exactly are you going to persuade Oromis to get back into coaching? He'll just slam the door in your face as soon as he sees you."

"Which is why I'm going to send Eragon himself."

"That's not- wait, _what_?! How's that going to aid the situation?"

"You'll see. First, let's speak to Wylandriah." At that, Arya stops talking completely and marches on ahead while I stand rooted to the spot, annoyed at her cryptic response. I swear, sometimes I just feel like slapping her silly until she gives me a straight answer.

We find Wylandriah in the lounge area, chatting casually to some other members of the Wardens, and Arya pulls her over.

"So what's this all about then Arya?" asks Wylandriah, a curious expression evident on her face as her eyes flicker between mine and Arya's faces.

"The new Paladins recruit, Eragon. I- _They_ were wondering whether your Uncle would be willing to coach him up to the level we're all at. Could you tell us his address if possible, please?"

"Honestly, I wish I could help but surely you know as well as all of us that he just doesn't want to coach anymore. No ifs, no buts, no nothing." She raises her hand as Arya opens her mouth to protest. "_But_… if they really want to go through with this then I'll give them his address. I'll write it down for you and you can pass it on to the necessary person, alright?" Arya nods her assent before taking the piece of paper from her and pocketing it in her jacket safely. Wylandriah then turns to me with a wry smile. "Good luck persuading him Saphira or to whoever out of your group attempts to do so. If all else fails, then I'll try to put a word or two in, see if I'm able to work the charm on him."

"Bambi eyes? At your age Andreya? If you pull that and it works, I'll be Arya's slave for a day." I remark, using the shortened version of her name.

"I will definitely be holding you to that Saphira." says Arya, a glint in her eyes at my bet.

"Fine then. It's not like I'm worried about losing anyway." I reply, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. Arya just shakes her head in response, a knowing smirk on her face. Wylandriah walks off in another direction, shaking her head at us amusedly while saying bye, and we both begin to head towards the exit.

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something. Tonight, you looked a bit, well, out of it. Normally you're focused on the task at hand but I got the feeling you were aloof. Is… Is everything alright?" I hesitate by the end, knowing Arya may well just retreat into her own private shell at my prying. We may be pretty good friends but she still has a tendency to shy away from personal topics. To my surprise, she answers but in a hushed voice.

"I had some flashes of old memories before I arrived; it's fine." As soon as she says the word old, I can tell exactly what - or rather who - she was thinking about.

"You know you can talk to me about it, right?" I answer in a quiet voice, the mood suddenly going from cheery to solemn.

"I know, I just… I just miss them both is all. But I've moved on, it's in the past now." She gives me a quick smile to show that everything's fine and I give her a short one-armed hug to show my support, knowing Arya isn't exactly one for embraces.

"I was actually talking to Nirya a few weeks ago actually and she mentioned something about you and Faolin. Were you close?"

"We had started going out but it had only been for three to four months. During Year 11 we became closer than friends but I think we were both unsure of whether we wanted to expand upon this. Then, at the beginning of Year 12 when he found out I would be going to his school's 6th form, he asked me out, suddenly finding the courage to do so."

"And you said yes then?" I say, interrupting her with a cheeky grin. She sighs mockingly, a small smile erupting onto her face.

"Well done, I did indeed. Do you want a lollipop?"

"Oh shut up and carry on." She smirks in victory before opening her mouth once more.

"There's not much else to say: I said yes, our first date went smoothly and things progressed well. Glenwing was always teasing us both too, imitating Faolin as if he was some knight in shining armour and I was his 'fair maiden'.

When we three found out we were all part of the Wardens, we almost couldn't believe it. I remember talking to Faolin about what the chances of that were: we both loved street racing and were part of the same group. I guess it brought us closer."

"Would you say you were in love?" I think my question shocks her slightly since her brows furrow considerably and her mouth tightens. "Sorry, that was too personal, even for me. I shouldn't have-"

"No, no. It's a perfectly valid question. And in answer, no, I wasn't in love. Yet given more time, I might have changed my answer." A wistful expression appears on her face, before she shakes her head suddenly and an annoyed one replaces it. That's odd. I wonder…

"Eragon." As soon as I say his name, I watch her face carefully for any hint of a reaction. Sure enough, there's a slight twitch and I'm positive, absolutely positive, an ever so small blush runs up her ears from her cheeks. So he does have some effect on her. "What do you think of him then?"

"What do you mean?" She looks at me oddly and I ask again.

"Exactly what I said: what do you think of him? As a person. Just talk to me, girl to girl."

"Saphira-" she protests before I cut her off.

"Arya." I say, giving her an unyielding look.

"Saphira…"

"Arya…"

"Saphira…"

"Arya..." By now we're both giving each other cold glares, before Arya sighs wearily in defeat and turns away. I tap my foot expectantly, awaiting her answer.

"Fine. He's just a good friend Saphira, that's all. He's serious when he needs to be but still knows when to have a laugh. We get on well and that's that."

"And of course you're thoughts of his physical looks are a positive trait?" She whips towards me, a dangerous look on her face. "Ah ah ah, calm down woman. Look: he's lean, well-muscled and fit and you find that a bit attractive, along with his personality. So what? Don't be such a hard arse Arya."

"That is not the case here Saphira. Just drop the subject."

"Then what _is_ the case here? Do tell." I ask in a steely voice, trying to wheedle some response out of her. Narrowing her eyes at me, she gives me a look which clearly states 'don't try and overstep your boundaries'. Yet the only way I'll get something out of her is by doing that, so I carry on staring at her for a response before taking a risky approach. "Is it guilt over Faolin? Is that why every time the topic of boyfriends, feelings or-"

"It's none of your concern." Her face is horribly impassive now but the tilted eyebrows, tightly drawn lips and cold eyes hint at the fury beneath. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

With that, she yanks open the exit door and quickly strides over to her Reventon in the Wardens garage, starting it up and peeling away.

I lay a hand to my forehead, frustrated at her demeanour. We'll brush this whole argument off and be back to normal which is fine. I just wish she'd talk to someone about her personal issues.

I mean we've been friends for, God, almost 2 years now and this is the first time we've managed to talk about Faolin without her retreating into that shell of hers immediately. Yet in the end, she always does.

I think I'll have a word with Firnen about it, see what he thinks. Then, maybe then, I can finally get to the bottom of this fiasco concerning her thoughts and feelings over Eragon.

**End there. So, like the car action? The flashbacks? The parts concerning Faolin? Since Faolin is confirmed to have only been Arya's boyfriend (though how the hell that works or what the hell that means in elven culture beats me) by Paolini, I just thought I'd brush upon it as well as peeking into Arya's thoughts on Eragon.  
As always, hope you enjoyed and please review guys. Seeing the constant flurry every chapter really feels good and immediately turns my thoughts to writing the next chapter. Next chapter will have yet more car action as well as building up the ExA (ExA wise, there is something big planned in the chapter after the next - or the one after that even).**

**Notes:-  
-For those wondering how Murtagh doesn't know who his mother is yet knows her name, all he knows is her first name: Selena. He doesn't know her last name, her address, her physical features, etc. The big scene/reveal will occur maybe next chapter or the one after concerning her and him i.e. very soon. Drama galore.  
-Purpose wheel spin is unadvisable as it can wreck parts of your engine and rear wheels, rear axle, suspension, etc somewhat. So I really don't get idiots who do that to try and impress people. However, doing it for a few seconds or so is fine like Eragon did this chapter. It's when you do it non-stop for 30 seconds or so that it creates problems.  
-Donuts are fun. :D  
-A car park for USA people is the same thing as a massive parking garage.  
-Any other questions, don't hesistate to leave them in a review or drop me a PM.**

**Cars:-  
-Mitsubishi Evo X: 2007-present, 4-door, 5-speed manual transmission, 300bhp (though there are so many different Evo X models, bhp varies widely), 0-60 is 4.7s, 2.0L inline-4 (means all 4 cylinders are in a straight line), 150-155mph top speed. Awesome car, known for its rallying capabilities and boy racer appeal with its turbo engine.  
-Ascari A10: 2006-present, 2-door, 5.0L V8, 625bhp, 220mph, 0-60 is 2.8s, 6-speed manual transmission. This thing is blindingly quick and well handled, absolutely annihilated every other car when it came for a run on the Top Gear UK test track.  
-Mercedes SLR McLaren: ** **2003-2010, 2-door, 5.4L supercharged V8, 5-speed auto transmission (but has 'manual' modes), 617bhp, 0-60 is 3.3s, 216mph. Classic mad Mercedes car with a 'nuclear bomb' (quoting Jeremy Clarkson) for an engine. **


	11. New Ride

**New chapter then. And this will definitely be car action, car action, car action... and, oh wait, car action. As always, leave a review since it really makes my day and enjoy the chapter. Apologies for the slowed pace of the story suddenly, I just have to get these few details out before the big scenes, twists, etc come along; hopefully car action this chapter makes up for it.**

Chapter 11 - New Ride

Eragon POV

I can't believe I got roped into this. Just _cannot_ believe it.

Lunchtime, yesterday: I was sitting down, munching away on a sandwich and talking with Murtagh, Thorn and some other friends and bam. Saphira comes over suddenly, plops the address of the Oromis guy on my table and walks off while saying 'Good luck', leaving me spluttering there in shock and confusion. Of course I'd be the one to try and persuade this guy. Trust Saphira to be lazy…

Rapping my knuckles on the door in front of me twice, I step back and wait, giving the house – or rather mansion – a once over. The paper Saphira gave me said 22 Philmore Gardens which was in the East end of Kensington, populated largely by terraced houses and blocks of flats.

What the hell a bloody mansion was doing here, I have no clue.

The paintwork is all pure white in colour on the outside, with two grand pillars standing guard by the front door giving an imposing impression. Yet it's all pretty plain: no extensive decorations, no gold-plated gate in the driveway, no jewel-encrusted door handle, nor any exotic flora lining the garden.

Simple white paintwork, a small front lawn and a plain wooden front door. Oh crud, maybe he's one of those spiritual guru dudes. Negative energy and all that-

The door swings open suddenly, a seemingly middle-aged man now standing in front of me.

"Yes?" he says in a polite tone, smiling in a friendly manner at me.

"Sorry to bother you but are you Oromis Fraser?"

"I am indeed young man. How may I help you?"

"My name is Eragon Trent." As the words leave my mouth, his grey eyes seem to spark slightly, before returning to normal. Weird. "I've heard that you used to be a professional racer and drifter and so-"

"And so you wish for me to coach you as you are a part of one of the four street-racing groups in Kensington?" My mouth drops open, like some shell-shocked fish. I stutter in response, trying to form some coherent statement.

"W-Well, yes. I guess so. No point in lying."

"That is certainly true. Come, we can talk more inside."

"I know- Wait, really? I also heard that-"

"That I used to coach new members of the Paladins and Wardens a few years ago? And that I quit after doing so for a year? Yes, I did indeed. And so you expected me to simply shut the door immediately on learning of your reason for being here? It is a fair assumption but an incorrect one at that." Once again, I'm left speechless. This man is psychic, no question. He chuckles at my expression lightly, gesturing with his hand to come inside his home. As he leads me around, I take the opportunity to study his appearance more.

Silver-grey hair flows down to just above shoulder length, his face clean-shaven however and one or two wrinkles mark his forehead and cheeks. He sports simple clothes too: a white jumper, grey jog pants and plain white trainers.

It all reflects the inside of the building as well: minimal furnishings, plain sofas, only one medium-sized television, bare necessities in the kitchen and so on.

A down-to-earth person in a modest – well, almost modest – place.

Taking me to one of the many sitting rooms on the ground floor, I'm met with another new face.

"Ah, yes. This is Glaedr Jenkins, one of my longest friends. Since it's highly likely you know about my racing past," he says, as I nod in affirmation at this, "I'll also tell you that he used to be one of the drivers on my team in 24 hours Le Mans." Another retired professional racer? This must be my lucky day. I move my left hand out to shake his right hand as he stands to greet me but I quickly realise his right arm ends at the elbow, in a stump. Instantly, I open my mouth to apologise profusely but he raises his left hand in a gesture of nonchalance, shaking my right hand instead while I introduce myself. He turns to Oromis, humour evident in his eyes.

"I told you they'd return to try and bring you back. I heard your conversation at the front door and can safely say I'm not surprised."

"Well, I suppose it was inevitable. Sit, Eragon, please sit. I hear you've recently become a member of the Paladins having moved here only last weekend." Well hot dang. Why doesn't he just tell me my entire life story while he's at it? "The only reason I know this is because of my niece-"

"Wylandriah Fraser, head of the Wardens." I say, finishing his sentence. Of course that's how he's getting his info. The sneaky bastard.

"Indeed, indeed. Who perchance told you about my history and character then?"

"Arya-" I cut myself off, suddenly figuring out I don't know her surname. "Arya from the Wardens."

"Arya Elenwen? I remember her being a most apt trainee of mine when I coached her two years ago. She must have seen something in you then to recommend my coaching, yes?" I consider his words for a moment: Arya thinks I have some something 'special' then? That's certainly high praise coming from her, albeit in an indirect manner.

"I guess so." Oromis turns to Glaedr, gesturing for him to speak his opinion.

"I see no harm in this; it's entirely your decision friend." he says in a deep, rumbling voice, eyeing me momentarily.

"First, however, I wish to test the boy."

Enough with the testing already…

* * *

"We will be using a Nissan GT-R SpecV, 2012, i.e. this year's, model. However, it is custom made and some of the specifications have been varied to suit drifting. The most prominent of these is a modification to the transmission system. The GT-R normally comes out of the factory with-"

"An AWD 6-speed, dual clutch semi-auto transmission in conjunction with an ATTESA system." Oromis turns to me with an appreciative look at my knowledge.

"Indeed. A fan of the GT-R series I take it?"

"Indeed." I reply back, earning a smile from him in return at my quip.

Oromis had led me to a small elevator in his back garden after our initial conversation with Glaedr. It wasn't one of those modern ones where doors automatically slide shut and there's a control panel inside. Oh no, no, no. Instead it was open to the surroundings, with metal railings preventing passengers from falling off the side. A metal mesh had to be manually pulled up to secure the elevator, before a lever was pulled to send it downwards at a moderate speed. As we travelled down, a huge underground garage was revealed, at least 20 motorsport cars filling its space. Yet more astonishment came as we walked past the cars to a mini test-track in a separate expanse.

Unsurprisingly, I retracted my previous mental statement concerning the apparent 'simplicity' of this man.

"Continuing on then." says Oromis, breaking me out of my reverie. "The ATTESA system has an electronic torque splitter fitted, allowing the variation of torque supplied to the front wheel from the engine to be modified from the default ratio of 50:50 to the rear and front wheels. This default ratio has been permanently modified to 25:75 but can be altered further, providing more torque percentage to the rear wheels if desired. The semi-automatic transmission has also been replaced by a fully manual system, courteously provided by the Nismo motorsport division of Nissan who fitted the clutch pedal and gear stick."

"That's pretty sweet: racing quality transmission. Aren't you concerned over the extra weight this might have added though?"

"The SpecV already has a carbon fibre rear spoiler, brake ducts, grilles and interior trims, as well as-"

"Carbon ceramic brakes and titanium exhausts. Of course, I forgot about the material upgrades in this model."

"Even then, that's only the tip of the iceberg concerning variations in weight. The new transmission system also weighs only roughly two to three kilograms more than the old semi-automatic dual clutch one, thus being more than compensated for by the lightweight materials used."

"Has everything been slightly modified or are some parts of the car untouched?" I ask, eager to see if the engine has had some sort of a revamp.

"No, only weight and transmission have been modified. The engine, suspension, brakes and so on have been left largely alone, apart from a few electronic tweaks concerning computer management of those areas to improve performance by 5% roughly." He laughs lightly at my expression. "Power is never everything, Eragon. Good handling, smooth gear changes and clever driving more than make up for it during races." Signalling to me with one arm to enter the car, I walk over and put my hand on the driver's door, marvelling at the sight of the machine.

The GT-R is a favourite of mine as it's the successor to the Skyline series, also made by Nissan. Having won my first street-race in a Skyline a year or so ago, the GT-R instantly became a hit for me when it went into production in 2007.

My hand glides over the door, the sleekness of the paintwork and bodywork evident. I get in, adjusting to the Recaro racing seat while turning the key already present in the car ignition and pushing the 'Start' button in front of the handbrake.

Now _that_ is music to my ears.

A throaty, rumbling noise permeates the air, rising in amplitude as I rev the engine a couple of times.

What. A. Sound.

Disengaging the handbrake and shifting into first, I look to Oromis and Glaedr in expectation who've both walked over to the car now. Glaedr's eyes are clearly gleaming in amusement at my excitement while Oromis looks to another part of the underground garage we're now in.

"My niece has also informed me that you've already been tested somewhat by the Paladins and Wardens. However, what I will put you through will be much more rigorous." I gulp lightly at his ominous statement and the now serious look on his face.

"Let's do it then." I reply, keeping the anxiety out of my voice somehow.

"We'll start with some basics." He walks around the car and slides into the passenger seat next to me. "Just accelerate down the straight until you reach 100mph, before coming to a halt as fast as you can."

I do the mental equivalent of raising my eyebrows at his simple request. That's it? Alright then. Fulfilling his request, I hit the accelerator and switch up to second, then third in quick succession. The modifications made to the transmission are extremely noticeable: it's just so… smooth. There's no other way to describe it.

Hell, it makes any other car's gearbox I've driven seem ten times as more clunky and stiff.

Reaching 100mph in roughly nine seconds or so, I switch my right foot to the brake pad and slam down on it, feeling myself lurch forward slightly as the car's speed dramatically reduces. Sixth gear tumbles to third gear swiftly, the car now at 50mph. I manage to catch a quick look at Oromis' face but it's pretty much blank, giving away no reaction whatsoever.

The car rolls to a halt a few seconds later and I shift to neutral, before pulling the handbrake up to lock the car in position.

"Good: safety and sensibility in a car seem to be naturally built into you." says Oromis, pointing his hand at the handbrake and gear stick with a look of approval on his face. "Your gear changes upwards are most impressive, hand and thumb positioning on the gear stick correct too at higher gears. Downward shifting is perfectly fine as well although I do have one question. Do you know how to heel-toe downshift?"

"Honestly, I have no idea what that even is."

"As I thought but no matter: it can be taught with practice. Next test: a drift. There's a rather angled corner ahead, quite sharp and tight. Your task is simply to drift around it successfully. Begin when you're ready."

Sounds simple enough. I just need to make sure I angle the drift a bit more than usual to get round this corner if it's as sharp as Oromis says.

Pushing the handbrake down and shifting into first, I set the car in motion and build up a moderate amount of speed. Thinking back to yesterday, there's no way I'm going to try and enter this at 70mph and burnout in front of him.

Hitting 60mph as the corner approaches, I hit the brakes to slow to around 45mph before wrenching the steering wheel in the direction of the turn while simultaneously ripping the handbrake up. Why am I using the handbrake? To bloody make sure I get the car to lose traction and go around the corner; better to be safe than sorry in this situation.

As expected, the back end slips out and I quickly switch to the throttle, preventing the car from completely losing control. I let the back end angle out slightly more than usual due to the tight corner and counter-steer as necessary.

The GT-R swings its way around the bend almost effortlessly, planting a huge grin on my face as all goes to plan and a few clouds of smoke appear from the back tyres spinning wildly.

Straightening out and once again coming to a standstill, I repeat my previous actions of putting the car in neutral and pulling the handbrake up and look to Oromis.

"Your car control is good: precise and well-handled. Use of the handbrake was perhaps an amateur move but I'm guessing your sensibility advised you to use it, to make sure you increase your chances of sliding the car. Correct?"

"Spot on."

"Another question has come to my mind however. Do you know the clutch-kick technique of drifting?"

"No, I've never learnt that before."

"Again, it is no cause for concern as it is another technique learned simply. Now, onto the next test."

* * *

An hour passes with Oromis really putting me through my paces. Drifting around U-corners, long slides (where after a long straight, a shallow corner comes up allowing for drifting at much higher speeds) where I thankfully didn't manage to burnout or lose control, slaloms between cones, standing starts with no wheel spin allowed and so on. You name it, he tested it.

"Here comes the beginning of the real challenge Eragon. You have clearly ingrained all the techniques you know so far but how well, and how quickly, can you learn an advanced one?"

"I guess I'll find out." I reply hesitantly, licking my lips nervously at what he might throw at me.

"Glaedr will be your teacher for now." says Oromis, climbing out the car and sitting down on a bench on the far side of the garage. Glaedr enters the Nissan a moment later, clipping on his seatbelt and turning his head to me.

"I will be teaching you heel-toe downshifting which is a fairly high-level racing technique."

"Oromis mentioned that earlier, asking me if I knew how to do it…" I reply, trailing off in a quiet voice. I feel a bit lacking in knowledge considering the events of the past few days: not being able to pendulum and now this 'heel-toe' shifting.

"Don't be so disheartened Eragon. As I said, it truly is an advanced technique but hopefully you should master it today." A mysterious look appears on his face suddenly as he looks over my facial features before glancing at Oromis. "You have natural talent Eragon, both Oromis and I agree on that having watched you for the past hour. It's refined in some places but raw in others, yet that's easily improved upon." Giving me a wry smile, he clears his throat before speaking again. "Now, onto heel-toe shifting.

Let me first ask you a question: when you dip the clutch, in preparation for downshifting, do you notice anything occur? Specifically, as soon as you begin to press the clutch pedal?"

"The engine revs begin to drop." I answer.

"Indeed. Now, when downshifting, what problem could this present when reengaging the engine to the driveshaft in a rear-wheel drive car such as this one?" Problem? Shoot, no idea. In response, I give him a blank stare to which he sighs and opens his mouth once more. "Let me rephrase it slightly: since the engine speed falls, meaning there is a now a difference between the speed of the driveshaft and the engine, what problem or effect could this cause when disengaging the clutch i.e. reengaging the engine? Think about the two rotating parts, revolving at different speeds each, suddenly meeting along a common plane of their faces." It clicks.

"You get slipping between the two which creates some sort of disturbance?"

"Exactly, the disturbance being jolting of sorts which upsets the balance of the car, especially so when cornering or preparing to drift into a turn. To rectify this, we simply blip the throttle while braking to raise the engine speed to match that of the driveshaft, i.e. the car, helping to synchronize the two moving parts. "

"Wait, wait. Braking while using the throttle? How on earth does that even work? Don't tell me I have to-"

"Use two pedals simultaneously with one foot? Why, yes you do Eragon. That is why it's named 'heel-toe' shifting: your left foot operates the clutch while your right foot toes, or rather the ball of your right foot, operates the brake and your right heel the accelerator. I'll talk you through the steps and then you can practice with the car in neutral.

Imagine you are approaching a corner and you begin to brake with your right foot as per normal. Instead of pressing down with your whole foot, simply use the ball of it only to leave the heel ready for the accelerator. These next steps are done almost simultaneously: engaging the clutch, you shift to neutral while continuing to brake steadily. At the same time, twist your right foot so your heel is able to reach the throttle and blip the accelerator to quickly increase the engine speed, matching that of the driveshaft approximately. Once you've blipped the throttle, twist your right foot back into position, keeping in mind you're still braking steadily here, and shift down to the lower gear from neutral before releasing the clutch pedal. By now you've reached the entrance of the corner and you apply a steady pressure to the accelerator as you turn before going completely flat out as you exit the corner, as per normal.

This whole process only takes half to a whole second, Eragon, so expect some gear crunching, slippery feet and failures before you succeed."

"Can we run through that again once more?" I ask timidly, overwhelmed by the whole process. He laughs at my perplexed expression before repeating the instructions once more.

"Just remember overall: the key is to synchronize braking and accelerating, achieve a feel for how much you need to 'blip' the throttle and create a smooth motion which comes naturally."

Like that's not difficult at all. What else did the tooth-fairy tell you?

"We'll start with the car in neutral and practise the pedal motions."

Murtagh POV (earlier in the day)

As soon as I turned up to school today, I was bombarded with questions from Nasuada, Thorn and so on, asking why I didn't show up yesterday, what I was doing and what 'family issues' meant most of all.

Why the fuck did I send that text. I should've just kept quiet and said I was ill or something.

Good job, Murty. Good job. Such a clever brain you have.

I grunt sharply as Nasuada elbows my gut in class. For the fiftieth God damn time.

"What?!" I hiss at her, my mouth barely moving as I face the front, looking as if I'm paying attention.

"Why are you being so secretive?" she whispers, mimicking my actions to give the same 'I'm clearly paying attention' look.

"Because." I can pretty much hear her shriek mentally at my response.

"Because what?"

"Because it's none of your business." My fist clenches, snapping the pencil currently in my hand cleanly in two. "And just leave it at that, alright?" Her expressions turn to hurt, twisting my insides with guilt, before forming a hardened mask.

"Fine." I flinch slightly at her ice-cold tone.

"Mr Rennox and Mrs Bryn! Could you please stop chatting amongst yourselves and pay attention this instant!" Busted. Clearly this was _her_ fault as I-

"Sorry Ms Wood, Murtagh kept bugging me about something so I was _trying_ to tell him to shut up." I-I'm sorry, _what_? What tom-foolery is this?!

"Wait just a minute-" I start, in protest at Nasuada's lies.

"I don't want to hear it Mr Rennox. Please refrain from annoying your classmates in the future. Now, return your attention to the whiteboard."

I glare at Nasuada to which she replies by sticking her tongue out at me. And they say girls mature faster than boys.

"Looks like the lovebirds are arguing again. Just go bang each other already. Sheesh." remarks Thorn quietly, sitting behind us. He goes pale and gulps visibly as Nasuada and I both turn to give him deathly looks.

I still can't believe I got blamed out of the two of us. Then again, Nasuada is the daughter of the headmaster and Ms Trianna Wood doesn't exactly list me as one of her favoured students. Oh, no, no. She acts like a bit of slut, put bluntly i.e. practically flirting with all the sporty dudes and the usual.

Taking a quick glance to Nasuada on my left, I twirl a new pencil in my hand while thoughts relating to last night flood my mind. When Dad got home last night, I kept quiet and avoided eye contact: I was that paranoid about him being able to figure out something was wrong.

Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a long breath.

_White powder. Drugs._

What else could it mean? I'm even more frustrated by the fact that I can't ask him about it without creating some sort of a scene. As if I could just waltz up to him and ask 'Hey Dad, you don't happen to deal crack do you?'

_He lied to me._

Maybe. I need to find out exactly what that stuff is. Somehow.

* * *

The bell signalling the end of school sounds its normal trio of rings and I rush out of class, hoping to intercept Nasuada before she drives home. I catch her by her orange McLaren MP4-12C, packing her things into the back seat.

"Nasuada! I-"

"Save it Murtagh. You want to sulk and wallow in despair at your problems, rather than come to your friends and share your burdens with us? Fine. Be like that." Grabbing her arm, I turn her to face me again, desperate to set things right.

"I'm sorry. I just… I just didn't know how to tell you all. It's about my Dad and it's been driving me crazy all day, leading to me getting snappy and angry. And in the end, you're right. I do need to tell someone else." I glance at the exit of the car park before looking at her once more. "Can we talk about this in a café or something rather than in school?" A huge smirk works its way across her face as she processes my words.

"Why Murtagh, are you asking me out on a date?" Shit.

"I-I just thought, well you know… I'm not sure if… I don't know." I reply, floundering like an absolute idiot. A peal of laughter rings out from her at my jumble of words.

"I was only kidding Murty. C'mon, let's talk this over somewhere else then. And no more secrecy: if you have issues, tell Arya, tell Eragon, tell Saphira. Tell anyone. Even me."

"Yeah, sure." My tone is hushed, taking in the sincerity of her words. "Eugh, woman. You're making me go all mushy inside. Man pride levels… falling…" Making fake choking noises, I drop to the ground and start writhing around. Nasuada sighs loudly, before yanking me up roughly by my armpits.

"That tickles!"

"Good, at least it made you get up off your fat arse."

"I take offence at that remark."

"Let me cry you a lake."

"Enough of this idle talk. Onwards, to the coffee shop!" I march forward in a sort of superman pose while she shakes her head in exasperation.

It takes about five minutes of walking to reach a local Costa's, down on Holland Street.

"Hey Murtagh, what's going on?"

"Elynea? You work here?" I ask, the confusion on my face evident. She's a girl in my tutor group; we're friends but not close like I am with Thorn and the rest.

"Of course, why else would I be here?" I blush slightly at my obvious question. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nasuada's posture has stiffened slightly. What's up with her now?

"Yeah, silly question. Sorry."

"It's fine." she laughs, waving her hand in non-chalance. "So what can I get you and your friend? Or is she _just_ your friend?"

"_Just_ his friend actually. I'm Nasuada by the way, I think I've seen you around school a few times but we don't seem to have any classes together." Her voice comes out friendly but her body language is all but the opposite. What _is_ wrong with her? Don't tell me she's…

"I think I've seen you around too. Shame we don't have any of the same classes." The smile that appears on Nasuada's face at Elynea's reply seems genuine but she's still tensed up. "So, what can I get you guys?"

"I'll have a mocha primo and she'll have a macchiato primo, if I'm remembering her favourite correctly." Winking at Nasuada, I turn back with my wallet out ready to pay. She looks away awkwardly with a small cough.

"I'll go find us a table. It was nice meeting you Elynea." With that, she abruptly walks off, slowly wiping the smile off on my face.

What just happened.

"Is she alright? She looks a little peeved." asks Elynea, gesturing towards her.

"Yeah, we just had a bit of an argument over something so she's been a bit pissed today." We talk for a few more minutes as she prepares our drinks. "I'll see you around at school then."

"Sure and try and cheer her up Murtagh, having a ticked off girl on your hands is unadvisable. Trust me, I know."

"I'll try." Walking over to the table outside Nasuada chose, I sit down opposite her as she looks around, twiddling her thumbs. "Hey, I got us our drinks." Hesitating, I take a small breath before opening my mouth again. "Before we talk about me, is there something bothering you? I mean as soon as we came in, you-"

"No, no. I'm fine Murtagh. Let's-"

"Don't be such a hypocrite: one minute ago you're telling _me_ to share _my_ problems and now here you are locking yours up. Tell me what's wrong. Come on." Anger laces my tone and I begin to reach across to grab her hand before pulling back.

"That was for serious issues, not petty ones like mine."

"So jealousy is a petty problem of yours then?" Her mouth forms an 'O' shape at my quip and rage fills her features.

"How dare you! You-"

"Nasuada. It was as clear as daylight: you were all tensed up as soon as I said her name in a familiar voice. We're just friends, chill. Moving on, where do you want me to start then?"

"How about what exactly happened yesterday afternoon? Why you didn't reply to any of my texts or phone calls?" Her eyes shine with anxiety as she asks her next question. "What were these 'family issues'?" Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I begin.

"I came home as normal and saw my Dad's study unlocked. Normally, that room's shut up tighter than a bloody bank safe but the fact that it was open made me too curious. So I went in and had a look around." Twiddling the plastic cup in my hands, I take a deep breath for the next part. "Everything seemed normal at first but then…

Then I saw a stack of boxes, with the top one open. Again, I was too curious and I went over to see what was in them. I found them full of packets of white powder, labelled 'White' followed by two numbers and a letter. No official documents, information on ingredients or any indication of what it was were with them. The boxes were plain too with no company logo or label on them either.

I panicked, dropping the packet back into the box and rushing out the room to mine. I was going to call 999 but I figured I should first at least find out if they were… you know…"

"Illegal drugs?" answers Nasuada quietly, her eyes widened with astonishment.

"Yeah. I mean, I just don't know how to piece this all together. My Dad's a lawyer and I've seen the stacks of files on his desk before containing court cases and such. Now, to think that he might be dealing crack on the side, is simply blowing my mind into little pieces. I-I mean, what the actual fuck am I supposed to think?!" I run my hands through my hair in frustration, lowering my forehead to the table. Suddenly a warm hand covers one of mine.

"Hey, look at me Murty. You'll- _We'll_ sort this out somehow. You've got your friends at hand to help. And you've got me to help." I feel our fingers interlock, both of us now looking at each other intently.

"Of course. Your infamous detective skills will most certainly be of use, dear Watson. However, I, the great Sherlock-"

"Enough of the monologues, you dunce." She says, fighting back giggles. Our hands somehow slid apart during my attempt to lighten the mood and I can't say I didn't like the feeling when they were together.

My God. You absolute sop, Murtagh.

"Nobody understands me." I reply, wiping away a fake tear for effect. "One other thing I remembered: what's going on with Saphira and Arya? Arya practically refused to talk to her or even look in her direction all day today."

"You know, I have no idea whatsoever. It must have happened some time yesterday evening, when we were at the Warden's base with Eragon."

"Hmm. Could've been a catfight over Eragon?" I say with a chuckle, causing Nasuada to roll her eyes.

"I really doubt that." She takes a small gulp of her coffee before absent-mindedly looking around. I find myself just staring at her, before abruptly looking down as she turns back to me with a questioning look. "Something on my face Murtagh? You seem awfully interested in it." Lightly coughing in embarrassment, I mutter some incoherent sentence in response. "Maybe I should tell Eragon and the rest about this: 'Guys, Murtagh can't seem to stop checking me out.' Now that will earn you a few days of mockery."

"You wouldn't…" I trail off, looking at her playfully but seriously at the same time. Dear Lord, if she tells Eragon then all hell, and I mean _all_ hell, will break loose i.e. his payback for my constant teasing.

"Maybe." she replies, twirling a lock of her mossy hair with a glint in her eyes. Uh-oh.

"H-Hey, come on now. I came out and bought you coffee. That must count for something? Right?"

"I suppose I might drop it."

"That's the best I'm gonna get, huh?"

"Yup."

"So be it." I say, downing the rest of the contents of my cup and setting it down sharply. Nasuada finishes hers too a few seconds later. "Head back now?"

"We might as well." She's quiet for a few minutes as we walk back down Holland Street before speaking again. "We should do this again sometime."

"I swear I should be the one asking that." I reply, arching an eyebrow earning me a thump to my arm. "Yeowch! You hit hard for woman, not hiding something are we? Hold on now, I was only kidding- Nasuada!" By now her face is furious yet I can see the mirth in her eyes. Doesn't stop her from trying to beat me with her handbag though.

In public.

Eragon POV

Clutch in and shift down from fourth to neutral, while still braking. Twist right foot, paddle throttle lightly and shift down to third. Still braking the entire time. And accelerate finally.

These are the instructions running over and over in my mind yet my hands and feet fail to cooperate every time. The latest attempt resulted in a very noticeable jolt as I blipped - I say blipped, more slammed - the accelerator a bit more than required.

"Alright, let's take a break Eragon." Slowing to a halt, I let my hands slide down the steering wheel as I huff in frustration. "So far, you're not doing bad at all: you have the basic gist of the pedal control but you simply lack precision, in terms of pressure applied to the pedals."

"So how can I improve that?" I ask, the anger at my previous failures seeping through into my tone.

"More practice." He holds up a finger as I attempt to protest. "This time however, I will perform the technique a few times and you will keep a sharp eye on my feet on the pedals. And I mean a _sharp_ eye: focus on my right foot mostly and how far I press the throttle down."

We change seats quickly and Glaedr lines up along the straight-section of the indoor track. I keep my eyes trained on his feet as instructed, feeling the car begin to accelerate rapidly. Hearing him reach 4th gear, I instantly switch my attention to his right foot. It all happens so fast: I make sure not to blink to miss it but his foot is off the throttle as soon as it touches it. Damn.

He lines up for a second attempt and this time I catch a glimpse of something useful: as he slides the heel of his right foot, it's already pushing down before his entire heel reaches the accelerator. And then the small blip comes. Realisation hits me suddenly: I keep delaying in exactly the same way as when I was learning the pendulum motion. By sliding my heel over fully and then attempting to 'blip', I end up overdoing it. The delayal in pushing my heel down slightly means I can't be precise. Bingo.

After three more demonstrations by Glaedr, he asks if I've grasped the meaning of 'precision' now. Nodding in response, we switch again and I begin my latest attempt.

_No delays. Push down faintly as soon as you begin to slide your heel._

I go through the same motion and, as I shift down to third from neutral, the car doesn't jolt, doesn't feel clunky, doesn't crunch gears. Nothing. The smile that erupts on Glaedr's face tells me all I need to know.

"Perfect! Just run through it several times more to really make sure you memorise and familiarise yourself with the action thoroughly."

Doing so, with a barely restrained gleeful expression, I hit the mark every time. No wonder this technique is advanced and invaluable: the difference between normal and heel-toe downshifting is extremely noticeable to the attuned driver. Weight shifting and balance isn't upset and, naturally, it helps to reduce clutch and gearbox wear. Two good things for the price of one, eh?

Switching the engine off (almost regretfully), we both get out and walk towards Oromis who stands up as we approach.

"Remarkable. I remember only a handful of people managing to grasp this technique in the space of a few hours, as you have done so today, when I taught this a year ago to other racers."

"I bet Arya was in that 'handful' of people…" I mutter, not expecting Oromis to hear my remark. I really need to learn that this guy pretty much has super hearing and vision.

"Indeed she was, I believe. No need to be so resentful, she has a natural flair with cars as much as you do."

"Mm." I respond, absently agreeing. Speaking of Arya, I really need to thank her for setting me up to meet Oromis.

_"…in the space of a few hours…"_ A few hours?! How long have I been here?

Fumbling with my watch, I read the time as six-thirty pm. 'Better hurry', I think to myself, seeing as I told Aunt and Uncle that I'd be back by around quarter-to-seven.

"I should probably leave now, I told Uncle Brom that I'd be back in about fifteen minutes time."

"Brom? Do you by any chance mean Brom Newman?" snaps Oromis, his hand coming to grip my shoulder. I nod slowly, having seen Uncle Brom's full name for the first time while nosing around in his post yesterday. "He's your Uncle?" His tone sounds perplexed, causing me to become confused as well. What's ruffled his shirt?

"Yes but how do you know him?" I reply, the question burning away in my mind. Glaedr answers instead.

"Brom used to be our apprentice. We coached him for Le Mans and, even before that, for Touring Car racing somewhat. However, he never divulged to us the fact that he had a nephew."

"How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?" questions Oromis, cutting in quickly.

"Seventeen." They both give each other enigmatic looks at my response before clearing their expressions. "I really need to go now; I have about ten minutes to escape being roasted alive by Uncle Brom." Oromis chuckles at that, an almost nostalgic appearance crossing his face for a moment.

"Understandable Eragon. Brom always was one to become snappish and lose patience easily. But, before you go…" He gestures to Glaedr beside him.

My left hands snap out to catch the set of keys Glaedr flings at me suddenly. The metallic Nismo key-ring attached to the keys reflects off the indoor lighting, making it sparkle in my hand. Jaw dropping, I sputter in protest and surprise at the implied gift. "I-I… r-really, I can't accept this! Why-"

"Tell Brom it's a late gift from us. He'll understand." replies Glaedr, interrupting me. I take on a guilty look, laced with jealously, from instantly desiring to own a car like that myself.

"Brom will most likely let you drive and keep the car. Even though he rarely displays it, he's a kind soul deep down. Don't worry about persuading him. And do not deny it, we can see it on your face: you desperately want to own one of these cars. Correct?"

"Correct…" I mumble in response, looking down abashedly.

"Then there's no need to feel ashamed or greedy Eragon. Consider it an indirect gift from Brom since he will, in all likelihood, let you own the car."

"I suppose. It just seems a bit much. I'm not used to owning expensive items, let alone a supercar." Understanding dawns on their faces and Glaedr pats my shoulder reassuringly, but with a glint of humour in his eyes. "Well, get used to it Eragon. You're in Kensington now and everybody who street races here needs a good old-fashioned, expensive supercar."

* * *

Opening Oromis' extensive garage door is a feat in itself.

First a ten digit code needs to be put in. Oh no, not the usual three or four. Bloody ten of them. Who wants to remember ten digits in a specific order? Normally nobody I know.

Then it takes about half an hour for the damn door to actually open, using the electric motors. But wait, we're not done just yet. Then _another_ ten digit code needs to be punched in to deactivate the infrared sensors dotted along the entrance to the garage.

Although, I can hardly blame the guy; he does have about twenty motorsport cars tucked up in there so you can't be too careful, even in Kensington.

Rolling out the garage slowly in my GT-R, I leave the engine running as I get out to reclose the garage. I start pacing around randomly, waiting for this hunk of metal to close.

"Eragon?" Spinning to face the source of the sound, I remain speechless as I drink in the sight of the woman before me. Why am I speechless? Allow me to elaborate on her clothing.

She's wearing light-green jeggings that fit oh so snugly to her hips and legs, outlining her curves in all the right places. Green flats, of a darker shade than her shoes, along with a white patterned shirt, underneath a forest-green gilet with a furry hood, complete her outfit. As well as leaving me standing there rooted to the spot, like someone had placed me in invisible chains of air.

"Oh. Hi Arya." is my dumbass response, before I blink rapidly and shake my head a few times. "What're you doing here then?"

"Coming to see if you managed to persuade Oromis to coach you and, if so, how you were getting on. Are you done for the day then, I'm guessing?" she replies, gesturing to the still closing garage door.

"Yeah. Oromis told me to come back on Saturday afternoon sometime to start training me properly. Today he just put me through a whole series of tests. Which I passed, before you try and make any wisecracks." A smug look works its way onto my face. It quickly vanishes as she raises an eyebrow and folds her arms across her chest in a warning-like manner. "Which I'm sure you wouldn't of course. Yeah, totally wouldn't." I say, quickly backtracking to save my skin.

"You're assumption is correct." she replies, relaxing once more. Whoo. Safe. Looking around briefly, I don't see her bike or any other mode of transport nearby. How did she get here? Voicing my question, she rolls her eyes exasperatedly. "It's called walking; you might want to try it sometime. They say it's good exercise."

"Har har, no need to go all sarcastic on me. Still, I thought you would be at the Wardens place practising or just watching some action."

"I figured I'd rather watch you struggle instead. Much more entertaining, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ouch. That hurts, oh ye of little faith. I'll have you know-"

A dull bang jolts us both as the garage door shuts completely, breaking the banter we had going and causing us to look towards the source of the sound abruptly. Curse you automated door for scaring us.

An icy wind rushes past us causing me to shiver slightly and Arya, even ice-cold Arya, wraps her arms around herself slightly and pulls the zip on her gilet all the way up.

Drip.

Blinking, I rub a hand across my forehead as I feel a drop of wetness fall on it. Great. Looking up into the darkness, I search for any stars in the night sky and, having found none, conclude that it's definitely about to rain.

Unlocking the Nissan remotely, I quickly dive into the driver's seat while motioning Arya to get in too. She looks at me questioningly but complies, shutting the door as the clouds above release their great weight.

"BBC Weather has done it again. They forecast a clear night tonight and instead we get a downpour. The people working there honestly need to go back and re-do their meteorology degrees. Stupid weather presenters…" I complain, turning the heater up to full blast; it's like a mini fridge in here. Arya responds with a light smirk before looking around the dashboard.

"Who's car is this by the way?"

"Mine." I answer instantly, pride welling up within me.

"Yours? I'm fairly sure you told us you didn't own a car, or were you keeping it a secret?"

"No secrets and I didn't own one before tonight." Her expression remains impassive but her eyes widen slightly and one of her eyebrow arches itself up.

"You're saying Oromis gifted you with this car?" Pushing the handbrake down and shifting into gear, I roll out of Oromis' driveway and head down the road.

"It's sort of a long story. Not long, long but long."

"That is, in no way, shape or form, at all helpful." she replies deadpan.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you along the way to your house. Speaking of which, not to sound like a creeper, but where do you live?"

"I'll guide you there while you tell me your 'sort of long but not long, long' story."

"No need to mimic me. That's the best way I could express it."

"Whatever you say, Eragon. Whatever you say." She's fighting back a smile as she says this, my fake pouting expression amusing her.

It takes ten minutes to reach Arya's house - I mean, mansion - and I just about finish summarising to her everything that happened after school today while I pull into her driveway.

"And that's that. A pretty good day, if I do say so myself."

"I have to agree. And I'll admit, begrudgingly, you have me impressed in learning heel-toe shifting in under a few hours." Pretending to clean out my ears, I cup my hands behind them while asking her to repeat what she just said. This of course earns me a whack up the backside of my head.

"And that's what I get for being a gentleman and dropping you off home." I say, rubbing my head gingerly. "So I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Sure." She pauses for a moment before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. "Thanks for the lift Eragon." Instantly, her eyes lock onto mine and an expression of mild terror appears, as if she's snapped out of a spell cast on her and realised the extent of her actions. All but bolting out of the car, she briskly enters her house with the front door opening and closing in the space of a millisecond practically.

All I can do is sink back into my seat and revel in the memory of the feeling of her soft, supple lips on my skin. I'd be lying if I say I don't feel like some moonstruck idiot.

Although… I am utterly confused as to why she would do what she did. Women: what I wouldn't give to understand even a tenth of what goes on in their minds.

However, as I continue staring at her front door in wonder, one thought crosses my mind.

_If that's what her lips feel like on my skin, how long till I get to feel them on my own lips?_

**And end there. So, a bit of car/engine theory there. Hopefully I didn't bore you to death with the details. Leave a review as always guys and girls, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter after the usual delay. Don't hesitate to add any criticisms concerning too much car detail, too little of something else and so on. See you soon.**

**Notes:-  
-A jumper is what you USA people (I say that a lot, 'you USA people', no offence to you guys/girls of course) call a jacket, as my great friend *cough* annoying person *cough* Unrivaled Mind tells me. I mention this so you don't accidentally picture it as something else.**

**-The torque-splitter in the car means that basically the power can be split in various ratios to the front and back wheels since it's an AWD (all-wheel-drive) car, or four wheel drive more commonly known.**

**-Handbrakes are used a lot for powersliding and drifting but it does look amateur even though it is the most sure-fire way to get a car to slide. So people try to quickly move on and learn advanced techniques to avoid using it.**

**-Blip the throttle means to just quickly jab it but not so much that it hits the floor, only lightly. So more like a quick, sharp prod with your foot.**

**-Arya's surname, like all IC characters in this fic, is different to the normal ones i.e. Drottning(u). All the usual names are middle names. Also, Brom's surname probably has you thinking 'Wtf. Why is Eragon's surname different?' All part of the plot my friends, all part of the plot…**

**-Eragon's such a lovestruck idiot. xD**

**Cars:-**

**-Nissan GT-R Spec V: 2009-present, 2-door (but back seats can be added. They were removed in the Spec V), 3.8L V6, 3.2s 0-60mph, 545bhp, 193mph, 6-speed semi-auto transmission (normally, changed in this fic as you saw). Awesome car and consider the fact that the normal version is only £53,000 yet on the Top Gear test track it's faster than a Ferrari Scuderia, McLaren SLR, etc. I mean… damn. **


End file.
